Life Lessons from a Narcissist

I was looking through Pinterest the other day, trying to find a teaching strategy or tool for middle school study skills, when I stumbled across a quote that literally stopped me in my tracks.  It was one of those "wow" kind of moments because every little bit of what that single image said was 100% me.  The best thing about these memes, is that seeing them helps me to realize that I am not alone and not crazy.  Realistically I know this, but it sure helps to have it reinforced from time to time.  The quote:

It's fairly straight to the point and self explanatory.  Personally I stayed in a bad marriage because it was less terrifying than starting over and being alone.  There were other reasons of course; for the kids, because a person "shouldn't" get divorced, because I had made my bed and now I should lie in it, etc...  But the biggest and most terrifying was being alone, facing world without someone to talk to or turn to.  Even if that person wasn't exactly helpful or comforting, I was convinced that something was better than nothing.  When I made the decision to divorce one of my thoughts was definitely, I hope I find someone new soon.  I promptly made a list of what I hoped to find in my next relationship and the things I thought were nonnegotiable.

But I did negotiate, I did concede, I was convinced that my list was impossible.  Unfortunately.  And once again I wasn't alone.  But the difference with this second relationship was that by the end of it, with the help of my therapist, I learned that being alone was WAY better than being in a toxic relationship.  I learned that I could be alone and not only could I, I might actually LOVE it.  I learned that there is something worse than being alone, it is settling for someone that makes you feel alone and like you aren't worthy of being loved.  So I looked back over my list and instead of removing things that were unachievable, I added a few requirements to the list.  I decided that I was worth it and I was terrified that I would be willing to settle again.  So I decided I wouldn't be in a relationship again.  I would just meet people, have fun, date and wait for that elusive Prince Charming who met ALL of my requirements.  Of course, those of you faithful followers know, Tim came along and I'm thankful to say that I was able to check off my list of 18 things I wouldn't compromise on and surpassed them.   Which didn't stop me from still being terrified and telling him no the first time he asked if I was willing to date exclusively.  Thankfully he was patient and persistent and I pushed past my fear. 

Thinking about this life lesson I learned from living with a narcissist or two, had me reflecting (probably again, so skip on by if you're bored with redundancy) on other life lessons I learned from them.

1.  I am worth loving the way I am.  I do not need to change for anyone.  I should always continue to make myself a better person for me, not change for someone else.

2.  Therapy isn't just for crazy people.  Therapy isn't a scam.  Therapy works and it works so slowly that sometimes you don't even realize it is working.

3.  My anxiety is mine to own and mine to control.  I learned about breathing practices and mindfulness and meditation.

4.  Cheating is not okay.  It is not okay to make the person you should be loyal to feel like they are scum that not worthy of just being yours.  It is not okay to make someone feel like it is their fault and that they weren't good enough for you.

5.  We shouldn't judge others.  No one knows what each of us is dealing with behind the closed doors of our home.

6. Loving makes you vulnerable.  Vulnerable to a lot of pain.  But it also brings with it the most amazing of rewards. 

7.  You can't be good for anyone else until you are good to yourself.  This is a many folded statement, but basically, until you are happy with you and take care of you, you are not much good to anyone else.  You will only be able to give half of your best, half of who you are and just wear yourself down further in the process. 

8.  I probably knew this one before, but I had it cemented in my brain after my time with a narcissist, words can hurt worse or as equally bad as any physical blow.  And words literally stick with you forever.  I can recall every snide, passive aggressive and outright hurtful thing said to me.  I can recall where I was, what happened before and after, and who was around.  Choose your words carefully.

9.  WAIT to send that text, email or message.  At least a hour or two but preferably a day.  Words said in anger or from a hurt are seldom wise.  Wait.  I can't tell you the dozens, maybe hundreds of messages I've typed and deleted over the past few years. 

10.  Life can't break me (and it can't break you either).  You think it will.  But it doesn't.  You think it can't get or feel any worse, but it does and it still doesn't break you. 

There are loads more things I"m sure I could reflect on and share, but 10 seems like a good number for today.  Reflecting on the positive sides of a bad situation is a great way to heal and move forward. 

WE DID IT! Country living here we come....

You see that?  You know what that is?


Look closer....


That's right!  It says "SOLD" baby!

This has been such a stressful yet amazing experience for our family.  You could say that Libby started it all when she talked me into going to an open house on an acreage near St Charles "for fun".  The truth was that the process had started back in 2014 when I started looking for a place in the country to call my own again.  There were several times when my ex and I looked at properties and he promised to make my dream of having the horses in the back yard again come true.  We even went so far as to talk to the bank and realtors.  We looked at a LOT of properties and I got my hopes up again and again.  When I finally asked him to leave, I thought to myself that that was that.  I was giving up on another dream  Again.

Enter my knight in shining armor, Tim.  When I met Tim I knew I had found another country soul.  You can take a boy off the farm, but when his parents own it, his brother runs it, and he milks cows on it; he's going to be back there a lot.  But what he didn't have and had never had, was a place of his own in the country.  He knew my dream and he admitted it was his dream, but he also thought we may be too old to start over in the country. He asked me once, "do you really want to retire and live in the country?"  I may have looked at him like he sprouted horns and a forked tail when I replied, "umm, yeah?"  in the "is this a trick question" kind of way.  He said he felt the same but just knew that a lot of people move out of the country as they age and here I was begging to do the opposite.  And PS - I don't think I'm "too old" for anything and don't plan on being "too old" for a very long time.  So we had come to an agreement that it would be "nice" to find a place in the country, but also a realization that it was a lot of money and probably not going to happen any time soon.

Then Libby took me to that open house and she started something stirring again.  I began to dream about that place in the country and we began looking at properties.  Lots and lots of properties.  And I loved some of them.  Tim, not so much.  He's more a realist, less of a dreamer, and more practical.  I had a vision for every place we looked at and could "figure out" how to make it work.  Tim didn't want to "figure out" how to make a place work.  He was waiting for the right place to come along.  I didn't think there was such a thing.  So we kept looking.  And looking.

And looking was the fun part.  I love architecture, looking at properties, seeing how different people creatively come up with solutions and trying to envision what it could look like.  The not so fun part was the selling end of it.  I blogged about all the work that went into getting our house ready to sell, or even just the picture portion.  All of that packing, cleaning and painting led to nothing when months went by without us finding a property to make an offer on.  We wouldn't list our house until we found something so there we sat with some of our favorite things packed away and no plan to list.  Many of the properties that I thought might work came and went, either sold or taken off the market.  We got our hopes up on a couple and missed our chance to make an offer.  We wondered and waited and spring never seemed to come.

Then one day our barn owner shared an ad in the local advertiser for an acreage.  There was no address, just a price and a satellite view with a phone number.  That same day our sister in law sent us the same ad.  We decided it was worth a call and Tim made the call.  We got an address and an appointment to go view the property.  Libby took one look at the address and lost her mind.  It was "the" property that she had wanted us to look at the previous fall, only to have it disappear off the market as fast as we found it.  She had loved it and was convinced it was perfect for us.  I was not so easily convinced but heck - I'd looked at worse.  In fact, the standing joke for a while was "who would find the dead animal carcass first" at the the properties we looked at.  This would be our first FSBO (for sale by owner) property so off we went.

It was Carter, Tim and I and we were welcomed by a nice older couple who were looking to retire off of their family farm.  They had sold off most of the tillable and had the final 10 acres with building site for sale.  They left us to go ahead and view their home at our leisure and we stepped into the front entry.  I was immediately in love.  Looking at Tim, I could tell he loved it as well.  We went through the house once and then again so that I could take a video for anyone not with us that wanted to see.  Did we love everything about the house?  Of course not, but the few things we didn't love were minor details.  For the most part, we were all in love.  And that was before we saw the buildings.  The excitement kept building the more we saw of the property.  The first shed made my heart sing. I could envision the indoor arena, stalls, high ties, wash area, hay storage, and so much more.  It was huge and in amazing shape.  We also saw the little shed that will be my new two room chicken coop and the large refurbished hog shed.  Don't wrinkle your nose at hog shed people.  This building is cleaner than most people's houses with not even a cobweb to be seen.  All the pits have been filled in and this sucker is clean.  We toured the property and were told where all the perennials, fruit trees, raspberries, grapes, rhubarb, bushes, trees, you name it are planted.  And there are a lot.  We saw the gazebo, the fire pit area, the strawberry patch, the garden and the old silo bases converted into patios.  We even saw an elevated cat room, complete with a tree limb climbing entrance and clear window for sunbathing.  Yeah, you read that right.  It seemed like every direction we turned there was something new and fantastic to see.

And here is when reality set in.  We couldn't be the only people interested.  In fact, they told us when we questioned them that there phone had been ringing off the hook and they had already shown the home a few times.  We left and made sure they knew we were interested, but what should we do?  We weren't a mile away when we decided we wanted to look again, bring more kids and maybe a parent unit.  Tim got his dad to agree to come along and we scheduled another visit for the following day.  This time Libby finally got to come with and as expected, she fell in love.  When we got home later, Tim called the couple to tell them that we would like to make an offer.  They told us that because they had so much interest they were going to do more of a sealed bid approach after they did an inspection and got the results back.  Our hopes were kind of dashed but we put together our bid and prayed.  A week later we were asked to stop by the house and through the course of a 2 1/2 hour visit where we talked about a little bit of everything from rhubarb pie to growing up on a farm to houses, we made an offer and bought a house.

Next came the super fun "keeping your house spotless for weeks on end" part of listing our house.  We had lot of times when we were temporarily displaced, 12 - 14 times I think and an open house.   Pixie grew to love seeing the Scentsy warmers get turned on and the leash come out.  She knew she was going for a ride somewhere whenever that happened.  And she loved going places, especially track meets where everyone always wanted to pet the cute little dog.  Weeks went by without an offer and we started to get nervous.  We had a deadline to sell our house by before our purchase agreement on the acreage would have voided.  That deadline loomed over our heads and seemed to rush ever closer.  We did a few more updates to the house, including my dad repairing, replacing and repainting the entry doors and Tim and I removing the worst stuck on wallpaper I have ever seen in our dining room and kitchen.  The open house and the updates were apparently the trick though.  After the open house we had several offers and we settled on the one we thought would work best for our family.  Then it all became pretty real.

We are currently in the paperwork overload portion of the buying and selling your house process.  Moving day is less than a month away and, well, we have a lot of packing to do.  But that's a fun part of the process too.  Downsizing, sorting and even better - UNPACKING!  Waiting to hear on our official moving day but until then, we sold the house!  Let the real fun begin. 

It's not possible, it's graduation day.

Today is the day.  The day that every parent looks forward to with equal parts of dread and joy.  The day that you start planning for, whether you realize it or not, even months before your child is born.  Today is the day when my daughter leaves behind her childhood and enters into the big wide world of adulthood.  There are a lot of things I know about today, but there is something I don't understand, how is it possible that today is here already? 

Libby was my miracle baby.  They now have a super cool name for babies like her, she was my rainbow baby.  She was also my first born and I have never wanted anything so badly as I wanted to meet her.  I loved every second of being pregnant with her, except those two weeks overdue that she kept making me wait.  I'm not going to lie and say I loved the whole delivery thing; 29 1/2 hours and then an emergency c-section was not the magical experience I had been envisioning for the 42 weeks prior.  But once they handed me my big girl I was in love.  I was scared to death about being responsible for her, but I had never loved anything more than I loved that little baby girl.

That love got me through every single thing that came our way.  There were the thousands of bottles and diapers; combined with first smiles, first words, lullabies sung in quiet, darkened bedrooms.  We graduated to the Barbies and Thomas the Train, Bear in the Big Blue House, camping trips, pneumonia, coloring pages, coloring herself ("I'm a Lion"), coloring her things and then she became a big sister.

Nothing made her happier or more proud than being a big sister.  She never thought I was doing a good enough job at being mommy, huh - funny how that hasn't changed- and constantly was telling me what Sophie needed or wanted.  She was patient and understanding and never complained once that there was a new person taking up so much of her momma's time.  She was my biggest helper and she literally took care of herself from a very young age.  That became obvious as she grew, well maybe I should say "got older".  (Libby found a note from her doctor as we sifted through things for graduation.  On it were her height and weight at her 5 year old checkup.  She weighed in at a whopping 35.5 pounds.  And she didn't grow much from there until her 8th grade year.)

I remember watching her as she got older and entered the horse show world.  When other little kids were tearing around on their bikes or playing in the sand, Libby was sitting with the adults and soaking up the conversations.  And she wasn't afraid to add in what she knew or thought either.  That never changed.  She was always there with us, learning and absorbing things beyond her years.  Discussing topics that shouldn't be interesting to an 8, 11 or later 15, 16, 17 year old; but that didn't stop her from being there and wondering or putting in her two cents worth.

I will never forget the moment I told the girls that their father and I were getting a divorce.  Sophie was blindsided and devastated.  Libby, not quite 13,  sat stone faced and calm, looked at me and said "I knew this was coming".  Then she wanted to know what the plan was, what was going to happen and how we were going to deal with it.  That's my Libby.  No matter how good of a job I thought I was doing covering things up, hiding things, making the best of things; you don't get much by her.  She's always observing and she's always figuring it out.  But she's also my partner in crime.

For a lot of years, I was alone in raising the girls.  Shannon was gone on the road working, gone with friends on side jobs, gone doing this or that.  Many years it felt like it was Libby and I against the world.  I relied on her to be a babysitter, look after the horses, check on her dad, relay messages, take food out of the oven, you name it.  I remember the time I was laid out flat by the stomach flu and she had to meet the vet because her pony was sick.  She was probably 11 and the vet said she handled herself like an adult the entire time.  She was always wise beyond her years, stronger than any kid I knew and more mature.  She didn't complain, she did what I asked and yes, I know that sometimes she was literally flying around trying to do it when she saw my van pulling in the driveway.  Often I would hear my very own thoughts come flying out of her mouth.  I remember distinctly the time that she told her dad, when he told her to bring him another beer, that he had probably had enough to drink.  It was when I had an "OMG" moment of "I have effectively cloned myself."

As the divorce progressed and I entered into the next disaster, it was Libby who picked up the pieces of me at the end of that relationship as well.  It was also Libby who told me it was okay to love again and it was Libby there telling me to give Tim a chance.  It was Libby trying to hold her sister together when things went south with her dad.  It was Libby "volunteering as tribute" as she called it when it came time for her sister to confront their dad.  It's been Libby telling me I'm right when I ask about this or that, and it's been Libby who hasn't been afraid to tell me when I'm doing it wrong too. (Usually about something related to parenting her sister.)

Every parenting book out there would tell you that you shouldn't be friends with your kids.  You should keep the lines clearly drawn in the sand and keep the relationship as parent and child.  My ex's often yelled at me for listening to her opinions and actually conforming to them some of the time.  I remember Ryan yelling at me that sometimes it was like we reversed roles.  Especially when it came to horses.  There were definitely times when it went from me telling her to sit up straight, keep her hand up, slow down her legs; to Libby on the sidelines telling me to fix my lead, relax and put my shoulders back.  I know that I have done a lot of things wrong in parenting my kids, I could write a few blogs on the many ways I have screwed up as a parent, but no one will ever convince me, that loving Libby as fiercely and as closely as I have was ever wrong.  She is my best friend.  We have been through more together than anyone will ever know and she has literally seen me at the very rock bottom and loved me through it.  She was strong when I was not and she never held one of those 10 million mistakes against me.

Looking back, there are a thousand things I would have done differently.  I would have let her be a kid and not counted on her for so much.  I would have not sworn around her so she didn't develop such a foul mouth (like her mother).  I would have gotten divorced sooner and picked a better male role model for her step parent earlier.  I would hide my anxiety better from her.  I would have encouraged her more to go out with friends and maybe read a few less books. I would have made her go to Sunday school, church and confirmation.  I would have been a better parent in a thousand different ways.  But looking at the adult she has become, I couldn't be more proud of her and I have to believe that I must have done a few things right.

While I have effectively cloned myself in that she's a homebody, fairly introverted, singing, book loving, horseback riding, writer; she is also her own person that doesn't understand my love of all things floral, the Carpenters and Harry Potter.  I couldn't be happier for her on this day but I also couldn't be more torn up about being left behind as she moves forward into her own life.  I know I'll survive, but it's a bit like removing a part of me that I've come to count on for so long I don't remember how I lived without it.

I've lived in a haze of lasts this year.  Last concert, last performance, last this, last that.  Her last day of high school, her last awards program, her last... her last...her last.... And for an entire year I pretended that this day wasn't coming.  It's funny how a person can just NOT think about the thing they are dreading the most.  I'm not worried about Libby.   I know she will succeed and rise above.  She will have her struggles, but she is strong.  She will have her moments where it feels like she can't get up that one more time and she will want to "throw in the towel".  But I've seen what she can do.  She is a fighter and has more guts and grit than the average kid.  She will go off and do her thing and live her life.  It's what I have been preparing her for since I held her that first time.

But I also wish this day had never come.  I wish she had stayed my little girl forever.  I wish I could turn back the clock and have just a few more firsts and a few less lasts.  I wish I had listened when people told me it would go by too fast and I wish that I had one more day as being that little Libby Lou's "mommy".  Today my baby graduates from high school and I still can't figure out how that is possible when toddlers don't get to graduate.  Somewhere along the line she grew up on me, no matter how much I begged her to stop.

Congratulations Liberty Rose on your big day.  I love you to the moon and back (or farther if that's possible) and I am oh so very proud of the adult you have become.  Now is the time to show the world what I have always known and that is that you are incredible, unbelievable, and an astonishing young woman.  If I can't keep you to myself forever, then go and be great!

Training philosophy - Whack 'em

Public Service Announcement:  Before you get yourself killed, it's time you realize something about that big old pet in your pasture called a horse.  A horse is a prey animal and its first and foremost thought in its brain is survival.  Sometimes that comes in the form of making sure it gets as many calories as possible and uses as few as possible.  Other times that comes in the form of fleeing any danger as quickly as possible.  The fact that they allow us to slap a saddle on them and ride them anywhere is pretty fantastic.  HOWEVER, be careful how far you take that sentiment. 

The first time I heard the word anthropomorphism my first thought was probably, "what?" followed by "not me".  But the truth is every animal lover does this to some extent.  Anthropomorphism is a big word for what we all do when we attach human emotions and feelings to our animals.  Come on, you've done it.  You've looked at your dog and thought, he must thing I am really dumb.  Or you've heard your horse nicker when it hears you coming and thought, "she loves me."  Yeah, I think we have all done it.  What we probably all don't realize is that animals operate on a little more basic level than we give them credit for.  (And she nickers because she wants you to do what you do best, dispense food.)

I see this all the time on public forums and pages.  People wondering what to do when their horse turns its butt at them, is aggressive at feeding time, pushes on them, runs them over, etc...  The answer, in my book, is fairly simple and straight forward.  Whack 'em.  Before you all freak out and start calling me an animal abuser, let me point out some fairly obvious facts.

1.  Horses are large animals.  Very large.  Like 10 times my size or more large.  Even if I hit my horse as hard as I physically can, I'm not going to do much, if any, damage.  Of course, if I get a whip or worse, some kind of shovel, etc... that would cause damage.  But let's just recall that horses are huge.

2.  Horses have big strong teeth, big strong hooves and big strong legs attached to those hooves.  Imagine being punched by a body builder.  Yeah, that's what getting kicked can feel like or worse.  And being bit by a horse, it isn't like the snake bite your older brother gave you, I can tell you that.  Horses CAN kill you.  That's not an opinion, that's a fact.  And sorry, but I'm a strong follower in Darwinism.  If it is gonna be me or the horse, it's gonna be me. 

3.  Horses are herd animals. They use the herd to protect themselves.  It is that survival thing again.  Because of herd dynamics, there will be a herd leader.  Why shouldn't that herd leader be me?  In fact, people who have been working with horses a lot longer than I have will tell you that your horse WANTS you to be the leader. 

Let me tell you a little story to help illustrate this last fact.  If you follow this blog, you know a little bit about our herd.  We have a yearling POA colt who is a little cuddle bug in Sully.  We have Joker, the slightly sassy (to his herd anyway), 3 year old gelding POA.  We have Kenya, who is a 2 year old Appaloosa and almost 15 hands tall, and we have Peach, a 6 year old POA mare.  Lastly we have my favorite 3 year old mare, China - weighing in at the biggest and tallest of the crew.  Herd dynamics might surprise you.  You can probably guess that Sully is at the bottom of the herd, but he is also one of China's favorites.  That's important.  Next to Sully at the bottom of the herd is Kenya.  Surprising as she is the second largest.  But she is even intimidated by Joker whom she towers over.  She puts on a show with him by pinning her ears and turning her butt, but she has learned that she has to be all talk because Joker is not.   In fact, I'm pretty sure maybe even Sully is above her.  Sully and Kenya fight for the bottom spot.  So we have Sully/Kenya, and a step above them is Joker, but a step above him is Peach.  I was pretty sure that Peach would be herd boss.  She is very invested in where her next meal is going to come from and not afraid to let the others know that she NEEDS to eat first. 

However, China is also a herd boss.  She's the kind of gentle but firm leader every herd needs.  She doesn't go out of her way to chase or beat anyone up, but she will keep you in line and she does get first dibs on the food.  When we put Peach and China together, I assumed there would be a battle royal for the position of top dog.  This battle took all of 3 seconds.  Peach went after China, China turned around and double barreled (kicked her with both back feet) Peach and Peach threw in the towel.

What's my point?  China has beat up every single horse/pony in the pasture at least once.  They all thought they would test her when they first were added to the herd.  From time to time they may have moved out of her way too slowly or thought they might try to eat some of her food and had to be reminded that she is boss.  She warns them by pinning her ears and then reminds them more firmly with teeth and feet.  I guess what I'm trying to say is, China has beat the crap out of them all.  Multiple times.  If you are in the "kill them with kindness" mentality of horse training, you would believe that they all hate her and avoid her.  This is not true.  In fact, it is quite the opposite.

When we take China out of her pasture they all whinny and try to follow her out.  Even Peach, who has been separated from her a few weeks now, went crazy when I brought China past her stall.  She whinnied and ran and pressed her nose to the bars trying to get one more glimpse of her best friend forever.  Peach, who should have the highest disdain for the mare that stole her top spot.  Joker whinnies nonstop from the pasture until we put China back.  Last year, Coupe loved China so much that we had to separate them just so he could keep a thought in his head when around her.  All of those she has put in their place, love her.  They all love China.

What is my point?  My point is this.  Whack 'em.  Demand their respect.  You're not going to hurt them, maybe it will sting for a split second, but the thought that you are telling them who was boss lasts a lot longer.  They are looking for a herd leader, you need to prove that you are worthy.  If you allow them to walk all over you, why would they respect you?  And if they can't trust you to get their respect, why would they trust you to protect them from that oh so scary plastic bag blowing around in the corner of the arena.  Get their respect, push them around, show they you are the boss and watch the magic happen. 

Those of you in the kill 'em with kindness and get their love club, they will love you when they respect you.  Ask China what works for her.  When Peach pinned her ears and turned her butt, China didn't wrap her in a cozy hug and pet her.  China whacked her a good one.  I love to snuggle on my ponies and show them how much I care, WHEN they are being good.  (Sully has the most kissable nose ever.) But if he tries to run me over, he's getting whacked.  Stop thinking that horse's have human emotions.  Survival - that's what horse's are programmed for.  Flight and calories are their two biggest concerns where survival is concerned.  Once you learn and accept that fact, working with and training horses becomes so much more enjoyable for the human and the horse.  If you want to train a horse, think like a horse, not a human. 

I’m writing a book on parenting

So I saw a meme yesterday that got me thinking and laughing.  Immediately I clicked share and started to write a post and realized, there is way too much I wanted to say for one Facebook post.  So blog it is.  I think everyone who is a parent, no matter the age of their kids, can relate to this one.  Except for you new moms and dads out there, you have a whole lot of joy to come.  The meme I saw was the following:


It got me laughing and thinking about writing that parenting book.  What would I have chapters about?  Let's start with chapter one.

Chapter one:  Bringing Your Baby Home
           In this chapter I would discuss the joy (and overwhelming crushing fear) of bringing that newborn home.  I would discuss how there are a million right ways to do things, but the internet, your mother, your mother-in-law and even the general public will try to convince you that if you aren't doing it a certain way you are doing it wrong.  If you have clothes on your baby, you're smothering them.  If you don't have clothes on them, you're freezing them.  If you don't breastfeed you must descend to the depths of Hell and have your baby ripped from your cruel, neglectful arms.  But yet, somehow, millions of babies survive their parents best attempt to freeze, starve and damage their children every single day.  Both of mine survived, yours will too.
           This chapter will also discuss how a person's scale of what is "gross" definitely takes a slide to the left.  I remember thinking that the little ones with their hair all a mess and snot on their faces must have parents who didn't care or had given up.  Well, choice B might be close to the truth because they can literally look like that 2 minutes after you wipe their nose and brush their hair.  They also puke, have explosive diarrhea that manages to get everywhere, wipe everything on them or in their hair and stick everything in their mouth.  EVERYthing.  You spend the first year smelling like baby vomit and the rest of your life like perseverance and insanity.

Chapter two:  You're An Asshole
         From the moment your tiny little baby starts walking and talking, you will become an asshole.  And, I'm finding this out, you will remain an asshole into your child's adulthood.  You will ride this roller coaster of emotion from laughing hysterically at the things that fly out of your little angel's mouth to crushing frustration when you get screamed at for being the mean parent who won't let them put forks into outlets or go on dates with boys who may or may not be drug dealers to overwhelming pride when they accomplish any feat for the first time.  There is nothing like a child's ability to go from sweet and innocent one second to a raging beast 10 seconds later.  I can literally piss off any one of my kids just by asking them to brush their teeth or take out the dog.  It really is quite simple.  You want to see pure hysteria?  Threaten to take their phone.  You go from being just an asshole parent to the biggest meanie (or bitch depending on the child's age) that ever walked the planet.  And rest assured, you, yes you, are the ONLY mean parent and the MEANEST mean parent.  None of your child's friends' parents are even half as mean as you.  If you want hours of entertainment, search "asshole parent meme".  Here, I'll get you started.  There's a website:  http://www.assholeparents.com/

Chapter three:  You Have No Secrets
          Toddlers also have an uncanny way of keeping it real and keeping you honest.  You will never be able to tell a little white lie again because your toddler, yes your little angel, will remind any who will listen that yes, you were speeding, no, you didn't think her haircut was nice and mommy drinks a lot of wine.  This does not get better as they age.  As many of you know, I teach middle school.  My favorite stories from students always start out with "My parents wouldn't want me to tell you this but..." or "My mom would be so mad if she knew I told you..."  As they age, the children just tell you that they are talking about you.  My teenager loves to start conversations with, "my friends and I were talking about you and we decided...." This is usually followed with something about how you are the most strict, meanest, mom of the whole group.  For fun, they are now old enough to post on social media all your embarrassing photos, videos and their complaints about you.  You have no secrets.

Chapter four: Nobody Listens the First Time (or the second)
         You heard me, right.  Let me repeat myself, because being a mother (and a teacher), I'm a pro at repeating myself.  No one is listening to you.  None of the children will listen to you.  They will not listen to you until you've repeated yourself 3 times, turned red in the face, thrown something and started screaming.  At which point someone will likely say, "I heard you the first time!  Why do you have to freak out about it?"  Or the newest, hippest way of saying that is apparently, "Why do you have to get so triggered?"  You will literally turn into a crazy person who begins to wonder about their sanity.  You will be told, "you never said that" so many times, you begin to wonder if it is entirely possible if you made up complete conversations in your head.  You will feel like you're living in an alternate reality where you are talking and no one, no one can hear you.  Like maybe you're a ghost or transparent.  And eventually, you'll just start doing things yourself and then you will hate yourself for being a quitter.



Chapter five:  Lying Gets Easier
        Of course we value honesty.  However..... HOWEVER.... sometimes telling those lies to your children becomes easier.  "Honestly honey, there are no onions in the hotdish" or "I'll think about letting you have a friend over."  Maybe they aren't lies, but the little ways we do what's right for our kids and keep our sanity.  Or maybe, maybe they are simply what we do to make our lives easier.  Whatever the case, it's amazing how quickly you lose any and all guilt over lying to your kids.  Never lie about the big stuff, but whether or not they were really out of ice cream at the store, totally okay.

Chapter six: You Will Never Have Privacy Again
        It starts off slow.  You have to bring the baby with you everywhere because they are never actually sleeping when you need to do those things you used to view as private matters.  So you'll put the baby in the car seat and set it by the shower.  Need to, um... do a number two, you get used to doing that with little eyes watching you.  And that doesn't get better.  Pretty soon your kids are busting into the bathroom when you're trying to use it or knocking on the locked door, "are you in there, are you done, how long before you done, when will you be done, how's it going..."  There are all these memes about parents hiding in the bathroom and eating a candy bar.  Who are these people?  Are their bathrooms really sacred?  Because mine isn't.  Or as they bursting into your bedroom as you're changing.  Or my favorite, invading my space when I'm not home.  You know how I know they do this?  When I see my things on their persons.  Usually when they post a selfie on social media and I recognize my stuff.  And they are never sorry.  They say they are sorry, but they aren't.

Chapter seven:  No One Can Find Anything
        Be prepared to be in charge of everyone's stuff, forever.  Even stuff you never use, never touch and truly don't even know what it looks like.  It becomes your responsibility once it hits your car or home.  You will be in charge of knowing where it is and if you don't know where it is, it will be your job to find it.  Oh don't worry, you'll be given plenty of notice for when they need it.  Usually at least 2 to 3 minutes before you need to be at a meeting, performance, game or other event is when said item will go missing and you will hear the cry of "Mom!!!! Where's my ___________!  I swear I left it RIGHT HERE!"  For some reason kids are always convinced someone has stolen their stuff.  Sorry, but no one else in the house stole your size XS black spandex shorts, or your bra, or your softball cleats. If it's any consolation, it is very likely in the first place you will look. Either in plain sight, or just shift that item right there over 2 inches to the left and "Voila!" 

Chapter eight:  You Will Never Sleep Again
        Starting from the second the little angels come home from the hospital and ending, well pretty much never, you never sleep decent again.  You go from getting up for nightly feedings and diaper changing almost directly to sleeping with one eye open listening for them to get home, go out, throw up or otherwise ruin your sleep.  There may be nights where you do manage to fall asleep and sleep like the dead.  Those mornings are usually followed by an early morning panic attack of wondering what you slept through, what may have happened when you weren't looking and what does your house still look like. 

This being Mother's Day, it seems like an appropriate time to share.  Perhaps I will be adding more chapters to my book as they come to me.  For now, here's a start!  Suggestions welcome!

The lies we post

I hear it all the time when people hear of my divorce or what happened behind closed doors at home.  "I had no idea.  I always thought you were the perfect family."  How many times have you yourself been surprised to hear that someone you know is divorcing, in trouble for something with the law, having medical issues, having thoughts of depression, etc...  Why are we so surprised to hear that people aren't sharing the darker sides of themselves, their  lives, on social media?  It takes incredible bravery to admit things aren't perfect.  People have been "keeping up with the Joneses" for a long time.  Why would social media be any different?  So let's take a minute and talk about what we put on social media.

I like to put jokes and memes on social media.  I am constantly looking for humor in what goes on in my life.  I also will literally go looking for a meme to fit a current situation.  One, because if there is a meme it means lots of people know what I'm talking about and two, because I like to make light of crappy situations.   I also post more negative/truthful things than most but even I try to keep it light, positive and save the deeper stuff for my blog.  That way people can choose to read it or not and keep their newsfeed free from the negativity.  But let's see behind the scenes.

Looking back over my recent posts, I've posted about Libby's prom, how much I love my horses, winning a belt buckle, shared our house for sale, going to the movies and the Kentucky Derby.  The closest to negative I got was complaining about removing the wallpaper in the kitchen, but even that I tried to make into a joke.   Anyone reading my newsfeed would think everything was going along smashingly and we were all one big happy family.

But there is always more to the story and more going on than our Facebook newsfeed, Snapchat story or Instagram pics are going to tell you.  You want reality?  I've got a dose of reality for you.  While I'm keeping it positive and posting funny memes...

1.  I slept approximately 4 hours all weekend due to anxiety related issues, including nightmares about ex's that had me waking up in a sweat.

2.  I've had a couple really frustrating rides on one of our equines.

3.  I've been so frustrated with the oldest child, her procrastination and her "senioritis" that I have threatened, complained and given ultimatums more in the last two months, than the last 10 years.

4.  I am worried about being ready for the graduation party at our house as we haven't purchased one thing yet and she STILL hasn't sent out invites.

5.  We cannot seem to sell our house.  Lots of lookers, one person wanted to make an offer but couldn't get financing.  We only have another month and our purchase agreement is void and with it our dream of living in the country.

6.  I arrived at a track meet on Saturday in time to be told, by my youngest, that it was my fault she missed the last height in pole vault because I am unlucky and that my hair looked stupid and I should change it.

7.  I went to feed hay to discover that two of the giant square bales we just bought for $60 a piece are completely mold all the way through. 

8.  Our lawnmower needed a pile of work and cost nearly $500 to fix.

9.  My car makes a fun new noise (or two).

10.  Sophie is having issues with someone harassing her and we are running out of polite options to cope with it.

11.  In order to get our house sold I had the bright idea to remove the wallpaper everyone seemed to find so offensive.  Unfortunately the upper layer was apparently put on with super glue and a project that should have taken a few hours took the better part of 3 days.

12.  My dad went to paint our exterior doors and discovered that one needed replacing.  So we spent even more money on a house we hope to not be living at in two months.

13.  The Suburban and trailer also needed work and cost more $$$ we didn't want to spend. 

But through it all, we have each other.  We have our health, the love of so many of our family and friends and more blessings than I can count here.  So we try not to focus on the negative and try to see the big picture.  The big picture is that we have all that we need when we look at the people in our lives.  The rest is all just stuff and some roadblocks that can only serve to make us stronger.   So I'm going to keep blogging about the positive and I'm not going to forget that we all have our struggles that we are going through, even those who keep the struggles off their social media.  We are all in this together.

Bucket List

How many of you have written your bucket list?  I didn't think I had.  I hadn't even formally thought about it to tell you the truth.  I have formally thought about my horse bucket list, I think I even blogged about it.  Things like; ride a draft horse, drive a draft team, ride a gaited horse, ride a race horse, attend Congress, etc... But for some reason, my bucket list ideas always stopped at horse related stuff.  But then, I remembered the Christmas present Sophie made for me a few years back.  It was called a dream jar.  She had carefully painted and decorated an old oatmeal can for me to keep my dreams in.  And I did for several years.  When cleaning one day last fall, the bucket got damaged and I had to take my dreams and glue them into a journal.  What an interesting process.

You see, I hadn't looked at my dreams in a while.  Here's what I learned.  Dreams change.  Dreams grow.  Different things are important to us throughout our lives.  AND... I'm certainly grateful for dreams that didn't come true.

As my dreams came true, I was supposed to take them out of the jar and throw them away.  I know that I was able to do that for many of my slips of paper as I transferred them to my journal.  Things like; family trip to the zoo, take my kids on a vacation, find the man of my dreams, etc...  It was exciting and fun to be able to say "look at those dreams that came true" and realize that finding Tim was a big part of how I was able to do that.

There were others that I'm grateful didn't come true.  Sometimes we can't make things work where we are at and just need to have a clean break and a fresh start.  Some of the dreams that I threw away were about not forcing something to happen.  Not wishing for something that wasn't possible or wasn't worth the cost.  You cannot change people and dreaming that you could, isn't always a dream you want to come true.

Looking over my dreams, I can attest that some things that were important to me then, definitely are not important to me now.  A matching bedroom set and a new bed?  Who cares?  I mean, it's nice to have a comfortable mattress, but that's about where my bedroom set dreams extend these days.  A workout area with cardio and strength training equipment?  That's what the gym is for!  And why the heck did I think I wanted a vintage ring?  Yeah, history is fun, but I barely remember to wear the jewelry I do have.  Yeah - vintage rings and the stories behind them are cool, but I have way different dreams than I used to have for sure.

I love that my dream of a small farm with a barn for my horses may come true.  There are others that are totally doable and still very vivid in my dreams today.  Like a family trip and tour of the state capitol, poor Sophie is the only family member who hasn't been.  And a new graphic design program with the training to use it would probably be a good thing too.  I take a lot of pictures.  It would be nice to go back to designing things with them.  But if we get that farm with the barn, that dream of a vacation somewhere warm with a beach probably isn't going to happen.  Or that one with the big motorhome to go horse showing and camping.  Or opening that cafe/bookstore for that matter.  But that's the cool thing about dream journals/jars.  They don't have to be realistic.  As they say, "dream big!"  But don't be afraid to enjoy the little things too.

I think it's time to update my dreams and make a new list.  And heck - maybe in a few years I will look back and tear up a few, laugh at a couple and shake my head at some too.  That's half the fun of it anyway.  Off to write my bucket list.  How about you?

Life Lesson #52908573892

Jokingly I tell the students from time to time that I am going to give them a life lesson that they can carry with them for the rest of their lives.  Usually it involves some kind of embarrassing personal story and usually it is something I have thought about for a while.  Always it is triggered by something I see or hear in my classroom.  This morning it was after I corrected a test.  It was a test over our poetry unit.  The students wrote the upcoming test, in their assignment notebooks, on Monday.  Every day I reminded them we had a quiz coming up.  We did review questions and I told them that there would be more questions like the ones we practiced on the test on Thursday.  Then as we left on Wednesday, I reminded them to study for the quiz.

Then class begins on Thursday.  I have two students who tell me "they didn't know there was a quiz".  One admits he never studied.  We took the quiz.  After the grading the quizzes, I was not surprised to see a few low scores, especially from those who didn't study.  What I was surprised to see were the answers to some of the questions.
Ex.  What is the rhyme scheme for the following poem?  Answer: rhyme scheme
Ex.  What kind of poem is the following?    Answer: rhyme scheme
Ex.  Similar to a haiku, what is the name for the other form of Japanese poetry we wrote?  Answer: haiku

And more similar answers.  There were questions that were completely skipped, including multiple choice questions.  So I pulled the student up to my desk to ask them what was going on.  You know what he told me? It'll make any teacher's hair stand up on end, "I'm just not good at poetry."  Son.... let's use this as a life lesson.  You're about to get life lesson speech, Andring style, #52908573892.  And for good measure, I'm going to include your entire GRADE on this one.

Addressing my class:
There is no such thing as "I'm just not good at it." There is such a thing as not trying.   I'm not asking you to write a book of poems that will be published on the national best seller's list.  I'm not asking you to get 100% on your poetry quiz.  All I ask is that you try.  And when you try, sometimes you fail.  But you are guaranteed to fail if you never try.  (At this point one of my blessed little angels pointed to our bulletin board and said "It's like you're always saying about having a growth mindset."  YES!  Growth mindset, where you realize it may be tough, but you give it a try and keep trying!  You don't give up before you start.)  Let me give you an analogy.  Saying "I'm just not good at it", would be like if I signed up for the 100 yard dash.  I lined up at the starting line and when the starter's gun went off, I sat down.  I would fail right?  But I didn't fail because I didn't win the race.  I didn't win because I didn't try.  I quit before I even got started.

I could tell I was losing a few of them, but a couple of them were nodding along (maybe just to keep me happy - but I can dream that they were hearing and understanding.)  So I pulled out the old embarrass the teacher story.

Addressing my class:
So, you're thinking, well sometimes I try and I still fail.  You're right!  Sometimes you try and try and you still fail.  And sometimes those failures are embarrassing and sometimes they are disappointing and sometimes they are just downright hilarious.  Let me give you an example.  You guys know that we show horses, right?  We've been showing horses for about 13 years now.  I've attended thousands of horse shows (maybe a little exaggeration).  I've been in the ring helping judges, I've been the announcer, I've watched my kids, I've organized the show, I've also been the one showing in the class, so I have a lot of experience.  I shouldn't fail at horse showing, right?  But there was a show a couple of years ago where I did fail.  Miserably.  I was showing in the class and we had gone one way around the ring.  Halfway through the class the announcer told us to stop and then said, "reverse your horses."  I've been to enough shows and shown enough myself to know that when they say reverse, you turn your horse and go the other direction.  But for some reason at this show I didn't do that.  You know what I did?  I backed up.  I guess my brain heard reverse and thought I was driving a car or something.  I heard the next announcer say, "reverse your horses" again.  I thought that was really weird because we never back up twice, but hey - guess what I did again?  Yep, backed up some more.  The announcer came on the loudspeaker a third time to say "Melissa.  Turn your horse around."  (insert class laughing hysterically)  Yes, kids, that's right.   I was laughing, the judge was laughing, those watching were laughing.  Pretty much everyone except Libby, who I think wanted to die of embarrassment, was laughing.  I failed.  In pretty epic style I might add.  But I didn't stop showing and guess what, I've had some success since then and I definitely will never ever make that mistake again.

Let me give you another personal story with a little bit different ending.  Sophie plays softball right?  Sometimes she would get up to bat and not want to swing, would stand there and hope for the walk.  Any of you ever felt like that?  (heads nodding)  Well, her coach had great advice for her last summer.  "You're guaranteed not to get a hit if you don't swing."  He was right.  You might get lucky and get a walk, but you're guaranteed never to have the joy of hitting the ball, maybe even getting that homerun, if you stand there and don't swing.  It's better to take a chance and miss, then never take a chance at all.  But that's not the whole story.  So last summer I was riding a young horse.  He was kind of dumb, and my last story proved I can be kind of dumb too.  There was this tough pattern and I was going to drop out of the class.  I didn't want to go in because I was sure I would fail and embarrass myself again.  But Sophie reminded me that I was guaranteed not to get a hit if I didn't swing.  So, in order to be a good example for my daughter, I went in and tried that pattern.  This isn't a Hallmark movie so I'm not going to say I won the championship.  But I did get second.  And I can't tell you the amount of pride I had in myself and my horse.  I never would have felt that if I didn't take a chance and give it a try.

What I'm trying to tell you all today is that you can't say, "I'm not good at fractions.  I'm not good at poetry.  I'm not good at the Laws of Motion."  You're not good at them because you aren't trying.  You may fail at first even.  But keep trying.  You're not good at it because you haven't practiced, you haven't learned from your mistakes.  Think of a time when you tried something and failed the first time.  How about that video game you're all always talking about?  I bet you didn't beat the game and everyone the first time you played it.  Did you play it once and then quit?  No, you kept playing and you got better.  And it probably took a lot of tries.

What I'm trying to tell you is this, keep trying.  Work hard.  Don't give up before you start, or even after you fail.  And always remember, "You're guaranteed not to get a hit if you don't swing."

The start of something great-POA

The other day there was a thread on a POA history page that I am a member of about how everyone got started in POA.  I didn't participate because most of the people who were participating had been members of the POA organization practically their whole lives.  They were sharing memories of when they were a kid, showing in the POA breed and growing up together with their ponies.  It was so fun to read and hear how close knit this organization was of people from all across the United States.  I feel blessed to be a part of the POA family, but our story doesn't span decades.  It all began quite recently in the grand scheme of things.  So I thought I'd write and document a little history of our POA story.

When I was finally able to get a horse again, after selling my horses to go to college in 1995, I wanted to take my daughter and try this horse showing thing.  The first year we showed was when Libby was 6.  I'll never forget because her pony was recovering from an abcess one weekend so we had her show my old Arab in lead line instead.  When the judge asked her how old she was, just making conversation with the littles, she panicked.  She thought she was too old for lead line since she usually rode her pony by herself.  Her response was "I'm 6, but I was only 5 when the show season started so it's okay."  The judge just smiled and reassured her that it was indeed okay.

That first "show" pony was an overweight POA/Haflinger/Standardbred mutt cross of a thing, but definitely safe.  We used to joke that, while Libby was in the walk/trot classes, she really had a walk/walk pony.  At the end of that first season we sold Lieba and bought her a new pony.  A flashy little welsh type pony, all black with a half blue eye, named Shadow.

Shadow was definitely more than a walk/walk pony.  She had a lot of attitude and quite a bit of sass. It's a good thing Libby had built up confidence on Lieba or Shadow might have cured her of wanting to ride horses for good.  We knew we had to do something else, but what?  We had been showing against these little spotted ponies all year called POA's and watching how good, quiet and cute they were, I knew we wanted to find a POA.

With the help of a local trainer and friend, we found a whale of a pony eating off a round bale with some calves just down the road from us.  She hadn't been ridden much in a few years, but she was started right originally and just needed a little polishing.  In no time we were going everywhere on that pony, who came to us with the name Miss Piggy, but we gave her back her original name, Giggles.  Giggles and Libby became a team and a force to be reckoned with.  They crushed it in walk/trot and were loping the next year.  At Champ Show they even made a call back in the English classes against the big horses.  Giggles showed us what a POA can truly do, which is a little bit of everything.  Libby showed her successfully in all the judged events, then added timed events, took her trail riding and eventually they added reining, western riding and even jumping to their skills.  Giggles never let us down in any of them.

Giggles was our first POA, but she would not be our last.  Giggles drew us in and hooked us forever.  Since Giggles there has been Taz, Dolly, Susie, Licorice, Kid, Saam, Sammy, Daisy, Sally, Chevy, Vegas, Cutie, Rye, Quincy, Gretchen, Pearl, Shadow, Razzle, Jenny, Cotton, Cooper, Buddy, Hope, Kuzco, Remi, Hot Wheels, and our current ponies; Peach, Joker and Sully.  You could say we are addicted to spots and you wouldn't be far from the truth.  In love with POA, all the way.

The dad he didn't have to be

As I sat and watched Tim immersing himself in the volleyball tournament a couple of weekends ago, I couldn't have been more proud of my husband and happier for my girls and I.  There have to be a hundred times a week that I think to myself about how lucky I am that he stumbled into our lives and stayed.  This post is dedicated to the dad he didn't have to be (but I'm so very thankful he is).  Many of you have probably heard the country song with that very title.  If not, let me share the lyrics. 

He Didn't Have To Be
Brad Paisley

When a single mom goes out on a date with somebody new
It always winds up feeling more like a job interview
My mama used to wonder if she'd ever meet someone
Who wouldn't find out about me and then turn around and run

I met the man I call my dad when I was five years old
He took my mom out to a movie and for once I got to go
A few months later I remember lying there in bed
I overheard him pop the question and I prayed that she'd say yes

And then all of a sudden ah it seemed so strange to me
How we went from something's missing to a family
Lookin' back all I can say about all the things he did for me
Is I hope I'm at least half the dad that he didn't have to be

I met the girl who's now my wife about three years ago
We had the perfect marriage but we wanted somethin' more
Now here I stand surrounded by our family and friends
Crowded 'round the nursery window as they bring the baby in

And then all of a sudden ah it seemed so strange to me
How we had gone from something's missing to a family
Lookin' through the glass I think about the man that's standing next to me
And I hope I'm at least half the dad that he didn't have to be

Lookin' back all I can say about all the things he did for me
Is I hope I'm at least half the dad that he didn't have to be

I hope I'm at least half the dad that he didn't have to be
'Cause he didn't have to be 
You know he didn't have to be

Being a stepdad (or stepmom) is a tough job.  Especially when you have kids of your own.  It is incredibly hard to love your stepchildren as your own and still have your own children know that you love them just the same.  I imagine that is even harder when your kids are older.  This has not been an easy road for Tim, but one thing never wavered in this journey, his love for his kids and mine.  He is always, always worrying about how his behavior affects the kiddos and he is always putting them first.   It hasn't always worked out that way in the eyes of the kids, but I've seen the turmoil and struggle that he goes through to make everyone feel loved.

My girls have not always had the best father figures in their lives and it was something that tore me up inside.  There is nothing that makes a mom feel more like a failure, then watching an adult (parent figure) in your kids' lives set a bad example for them.  I drove myself crazy trying to hide others' behavior or actions in order to protect my kids as much as possible.   But if there is something I take great relief and joy in now, it is the example that Tim sets for my girls as a man, a Christian, a father and a husband.  He has taught them so much about so many things.  But more than that, he has taught them what it is like to be loved unconditionally for who they are and what they love.  I cannot count the number of times I have heard him say to them, "We will love you no matter what."  Can that ever be said enough to a child?  They have learned it is okay to not do the things that we love, but the activities that they love instead.  Tim has shown them that a parent will support you at every volleyball/softball/basketball game, horse show, track meet, concert, awards banquet, you name it - even if they had something else they would rather be doing.  I mean, who doesn't live and breathe volleyball? (For 16 hours a weekend sometimes...)

Tim has shown them that a parent, even one not related by DNA, can have expectations for you; like chores and attitude.  And when you don't meet those expectations, there will be consequences.  But reasonable consequences, like losing your phone or being grounded.  Not being attacked, screamed at, ridiculed, made fun of, snide comments, or name calling.  A simple this for that and the words, "I love you, but because of your behavior...."  It is amazing to have a partner in raising my girls to be responsible and respectful adults.  There were so many years I felt like I was a ship alone on the ocean, and most of the time we had hit an iceberg and were going down fast.  Now I have a fleet of ships, or like a co pilot or... I'm not sure where this analogy is going any more, but I do know I'm not trying to be a single parent.  That is a huge relief and a pretty cool feeling.  It does take some getting used to.  I still struggle to ask or include him in decisions.  I've had, oh roughly, 16 years of being the person who made the decisions and dealt with what came up.  I'm not used to having the sounding board and support, but I'm thankful for it.

Tim has shown them what it means to be a Christian.  Yes, a big part of that is attending worship every single week, but there is so much more than that.  Tim is kind to others and would do anything for anyone who asks.  He is forgiving and gentle, doesn't judge others.  He reminds the kids that there is always more to the story, listen to others, keep your heart and your mind open and be willing to talk about your differences.  He is the most patient and steadfast rock in any storm and his faith never wavers.  For years I didn't set a strong enough example of teaching my girls about the Bible, the message, and the story.  Since Tim has come into their lives, we attend church together, Sophie voluntarily started religion classes and Libby has met with a group of teens to discuss their beliefs and how they shape their lives.  I'm proud of my girls and ever thankful to my husband.

Tim is not afraid to show his love for me.  I know that sometimes we drive Sophie (and maybe Libby but she isn't as vocal) crazy with how affectionate we are.  We hear a lot of "could you not" and "gross".  But I love that Tim isn't afraid to be affectionate.  Our kids have no doubts about the fact that we love each other.  My girls are learning what it means to be in a loving relationship.  And not just love, but respect and sharing responsibilities.  I love that my girls see Tim at the dishwasher, folding clothes and pushing around the vacuum.  Tim sets an example for the kind of man I dream about for both of my girls.  In fact, as Libby is dating now, she will often compare the guys she meets or likes to Tim and hold him up as the example they have to meet.  I love hearing her say, "Mom, he's like Tim because he...."  It's how she knows she can calm down her worried and anxious momma.

Above all else, Tim is their dad.  He filled a big old void in their lives that seemed too vast for any one person to fill.  Like he did for me, he smoothed over the cracks and filled that void with all the love he has to give.  I've seen more than once when my girls have been sad, scared or worried that he is there.  He always has a hug to give, words of advice or sometimes just words of comfort.  This past summer when my little girl's heart was breaking into a hundred little pieces, Tim left work early to meet us at home and start taping that heart back together.  I cried more tears, but they were tears of joy as I watched him hold her and help her to realize that we will always be there and we will always love her. 

There aren't enough words, or I can't seem to find the right ones, to explain how much Tim has meant to my girls and I.  Being a mom is tough work, but being a mom when I have Tim by my side makes it a lot easier.  Thank you honey for always being the dad that you didn't have to be.