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Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Faith, Hope, and Love a Cowboy

Yesterday I re-posted one of my old blog posts that happens to be my husbands favorite. 

Today I am re-posting one of MY favorites! I wrote this a few years ago, and I love looking back at where we were in our relationship compared to where we are now. I am happy to say that everything I had hoped and prayed for then has come to be now! I think we've found our rainbow and roses through the thunder, and have our family and our marriage on the path we want it to be! 

So here it is….Love a Cowboy…



    Faith Hope and Love are three very important things to have when you are a cowboy’s wife. Garth wasn’t kidding when he said “Whatcha gonna do with a Cowboy?” It’s such a satisfying struggle to love someone that is so passionate with such an unbridled spirit. It kind of feels like you are standing in the middle of a raging storm, praying you wont get hit by lightning and loving every minute of it but wondering how you got there in the first place.

The trick is figuring out how to balance that storm. I lean on faith. Faith that God has a plan and I have this cowboy for a reason. Faith that my prayers for help are heard. Faith that he will use his passion to grow his family. Faith that he loves me like I love him. Faith that I have the strength to ride out his storms and rein him in without breaking his spirit. Faith that the rain and thunder will soon bring rainbows and roses.

I think most cowboys these days were born a hundred years too late. For a while, I thought that about myself. Then I came to realize that I like electricity, running water, bling belts and hairspray too much. I’m definitely a modern day cowgirl! But my husband would be perfectly content to live like Monte Walsh, ugly mustache and all. The frustration he feels at not having the freedom of the cowboys past is all too clear some days. So I hope. Hope that I can give him the freedom to be everything he dreams of. Hope that he sees the results of his hard work. Hope that I can love him as passionately as he loves everything. Hope that he hears God’s words. Hope that our boys inherit his enthusiasm. Hope that what we envision for our family will come to be.

Have you ever watched a cowboy ride a bronc horse? Their spirits match. They are wild and free and are meant to be together and for a few seconds the world is exactly how it‘s supposed to be. When I watch a horse running through a pasture, head up and tail flying, it brings out emotions in me that are only compared to watching my own cowboy do something he loves. Or watching my little cowboys grow. It’s a love that comes from deep down in my soul. Love that I pray matches his.

I’m thankful that God gave me the love part, because otherwise I’m fairly certain that faith and hope would have lost out to violent murder. But since He DID give me the love part, my cowboy is alive and well, testing my faith and hope on a daily basis instead of in a shallow grave somewhere in the back 40. Some day’s, I don’t know how I’m going to keep from losing my sanity, my faith or my hope. But my love is something I never lose. Sometimes it’s quiet and I have to listen really hard for it. Those are the days I have to remember…..

Faith.

Hope.

And Love a cowboy.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

A Dirty Little Secret

Today is Throw Back….Tuesday?

Whatever. I didn't feel like waiting til Thursday.

I found my old blog. It, quite literally, took me THREE days to remember what my old blog was called. I'm blaming the mom-brain.

But I found it, and this is my husbands FA.VOR.ITE post of mine ever. Mostly because he likes to laugh at me.

So here it is!

**AND….for the record. I am now fully mostly capable of driving a stick! Just in case anyone was wondering if I ever learn from my mistakes!

Dirty Little Secret
There’s something you may not know about me. Something that shocks people. It’s not something I’m proud of. It’s a shameful secret I try to hide. I try to cover it up. I try to avoid certain situations so I’m not embarrassed by it.

But eventually, all secrets come to light. Skeletons come out of the closet and you have to admit your short-comings.

So I confess….. Please don’t judge me. Love me in spite of my faults.









I don’t know how to drive a standard transmission vehicle.






There. I said it.









Quit laughing.








I’m hopelessly dependent on vehicles that are smart enough to know what gear they are supposed to be in, and WHEN they are supposed to be there, AND do it automatically. People, I can’t even talk and write at the same time, how do you expect me to make my feet deal with an extra pedal and drive in a straight line all at once? And my whole life I’ve had either a dad or a husband to deal with these incompetent vehicles anyways. So even though I understand the basic concept and mechanics of a standard transmission, I’ve yet to have a really good reason to master the skill of actually driving one. Yes, I’m a pampered country girl. What can I say?

That being said, I have to explain how we water our horses. See, most normal people run a hose to a trough and fill it up. Simple. However, we’ve never been accused of being normal, or simple for that matter, and we’re not about to start trying now. A couple of the pastures we run horses on are way too far away from our water to run a hose to. So the trusty Jeep Wrangler has been transformed into a ranch water truck. (Jeep misses its California days when it was a desert lovin’ party Jeep. Poor thing….). Jeep now has a 55 gallon barrel in the back with a valve and a hose on it that we fill up and drive over to the troughs. Jeep does not have a smart transmission. It has to be told what to do.

So yesterday evening, Chuck asked me to water so he could go shoe. He knows my dirty little secret, so he said he would take care of the too-far-away-to-reach-with-a-hose pasture when he got back. Well I don’t like to feel useless, so I told him I would handle it with the condition that he had to leave before I drove the Jeep anywhere. I didn’t want him to have to witness my jerky start and stop driving technique. It’s enough that I have this inadequacy without someone laughing at it. I also didn’t want his “coaching”. I’ve learned that, as a woman, it’s just as hard to be taught something by your husband as it is your dad. But that’s a whole ‘nother post we won’t get into right now!

So I jump in the Jeep and he shows me how to start it. Seriously, I don’t even know how to do that part….Give me a little credit though, starting the Jeep involves a screwdriver and a temperamental push button, not a key because the three year old lost it. I reiterate, we’re not normal.

I, again, tell Chuck to leave before I even put it in gear to attempt to save some of my dignity. He laughingly humors me and drives off after telling me not to run anything over. He has a lot of faith in me, can you tell?

After a few jerky starts, I actually started moving! All the while giggling at myself because I’m Just. Not. That. Coordinated. I saw Trip roll his eyes at me. I think he could probably drive the Jeep better than me. But I made it all the way to the water hose, filled the barrel and get this…...I put it in REVERSE and drove BACKWARDS! I was so proud of me! In fact, I think I like reverse better than forward. It’s so low geared it’s almost impossible to kill it. Almost.

At this point, the children that were napping peacefully were now awake and I still had one more trip to make to fill the trough. After my first sucessful water run, I was so confident in my Jeep driving abilities that I figured I could do it with a nine month old on my lap and a three year old riding shot gun. No problem. I figured wrong…. We started out ok. Wade glared at me once for hurling him into the dash board. He quickly decided it was safer to sit down and hold on. Wes tried to steer us off the road and into a fence because he wouldn’t let go of the steering wheel. But we eventually made it back to the water hose, got ‘er filled, and headed back to the pasture. On the way, I look down and see the floor board filling with water. I yell “WADE! Why is there water in here?!!” because, typically, if something is flooding the three year old had something to do with it. He didn’t say anything. I just got the “Oh crap, I’m in trouble” blank stare. Apparently, before Wade jumped back in the Jeep, he opened the valve on the barrel AFTER I had tucked the hose back in the Jeep. I decide to just hurry and get to the trough, because I just had to back up to it at this point. Backing up sounds easy, but remember that I have a nine month old on my lap still, a kid now trying to jump on the floor in the water, and I’m not as handy at driving this thing as I’d like to think I am. And the ground is really really bumpy by the trough.

The details get a little fuzzy now. Somehow, between driving backwards, holding on to the baby, yelling at the kid to stay out of the water and trying to avoid running over a bike and hitting the fence, I slammed the brakes a tad too hard and the barrel catapulted out of the Jeep. Oops...

I got out and told the horses to mind their own business and quit looking at me like that, and assessed the damage. I thought the valve was done for since that’s the end the barrel landed on, but I was lucky. It was ok. It just leaks a lot more than it used to now. I'm sure that when Chuck is done laughing at me, he can repair it to it's former water-proof state. Wade told me "It's ok, dad can fix it" after apologizing for filling the Jeep with water. That kid sure can sweet talk his momma when he feels the need!

I banned Wade to his sandbox, Wes to the lawn, and considered waiting for Chuck to come home and fix my mess. But my pride said no, so i emptied 55 gallons of water onto the ground and very gracefully lugged the barrel back in the Jeep and cinched it down TIGHT. The next trip was a lot less uneventful.

Then Chuck called to check on me. He asked what i broke. (Like i said, he has a lot of faith in me!) I told him "Nothin'....". What?? I didn't BREAK anything! And the horses have water.

Until tonight.

Then I have to do it all over again.

Maybe I should let Trip do it...

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Anxiety

I have anxiety. 

I have been an anxious stress ball ever since I can remember and last summer I was finally, officially diagnosed. It was starting to take over my life, and I wasn't a very fun person to be around so I grudgingly talked to a therapist and a doctor. "Situational depression and anxiety" was the verdict.

Anxiety has presented as procrastination in my life. I ignore the things that make me anxious as long as possible and when I say ignore, I mean spend hours of unproductive time on social media sites. I "hide" on Facebook….Pinterest….CafeMom….and the most expensive one, eBay. 

I ignore projects, hobbies, important paperwork, phone calls, bills, supper time, exercise, chores, friends. God.


My kids.


Ouch.

My iPhone doesn't help matters. Not only can I hide in my computer desk upstairs, I can also hide right there on the couch in the midst of bored kids and a disastrous, messy house. Barricaded in my own little bubble until a little finger pokes it hard enough to burst it and release my other form of anxiety…anger. 

The ironic thing about ALL of this is I am ignoring the therapeutic things in my life. When I muster up enough will power to force myself to go out and play baseball with the kids, or go on a walk, or sit down and color with them I feel better. When Chuck pesters and yells at me enough to go to church, I feel better. When I click the little red circle to "x" out of Safari and organize my desk and filing cabinet I feel better. When I put my phone down and clean my house, I FEEL BETTER!!

It should be a no-brainer. 

But, alas, it is not. Along with begin anxious and begin a master procrastinator I'm also an amazing excuse maker! I can justify and rationalize every procrastinating moment and Lord help the husband that tries to call me out. 

Poor guy…


So this is my formal plan of attack: 

Less medication. Mood stabilizers are a great thing, and the prescription has carried me through the last year. However…I need real, raw emotion again. I can't be dulled anymore.

Less Facebook. I'm not going to delete my account or anything because absolutes never work for me like they do my husband. I never have been a quitter! (Thank God I never started smoking…) And it's really the best way for me to keep in touch with my friends and family scattered all over the country. I might actually delete the app from my phone though, along with the ridiculous game apps.

Less pinning and more doing! With 6,718 pins currently…I think I can safely say I have got enough projects and recipes to last me a lifetime. 

More saying "Yes!" to my kids. You want to make cookies? YES! You want to paint? YES! You want to go to the park? YES! You want to help stir the pancakes? YES! You want to sing the alphabet song 382 times? YES!

More outdoors (WHY is this even an issue?!) I live in God's Country, Heaven on earth, the mecca of the Outdoor Sportsman. More fishing, camping, hunting, hiking, exploring, riding, nature.

More music. iTunes is sorely underused on my computer! 

More creating. Sewing, crocheting, writing, building. 

More Bible. More praying. More church. 


This is also my formal apology to anyone and everyone that has been negatively impacted by my stupid anxiety: 

I'm sorry husband. But I know you forgive me on a daily basis because you love me. I love you for loving me, and putting up with me, and wanting me to be happy. Thank you for this life we've built. 

I'm sorry beautiful children of mine. I know your amazing, pure, little hearts also forgive me on an hourly basis because you love your momma. You are the reason I even have the desire to make these changes! Thank you for being my babies.

I'm sorry friends. You've stuck with me for so long. Some of you for years. Lifetimes even. I know you forgive me because you're still here! Thank you for being the shoulders, the sounding boards for my rants, the voice of reason. Thank you for the loyalty. 

I am sorry God. Your forgiveness is unparalleled. Just thank you.