Pat


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We officially have the keys to our first house. It’s rented, but it’s magic. I have wanted a house for the kids for over a decade now. And this house… It’s a 4 bedroom ranch with two bathrooms. Finally enough room that we aren’t tripping over each other just to move around. (We’ve been in a 5 bedroom for the past 6 years. The 5 of us.) The backyard could be classified a park it’s so big and it’s on a non-active air force base. We’re in the old base housing. We actually got an officer’s house. And we’re a 5 minute walk from the airport itself, right down from where they park the Apaches. My boys think they’ve died and gone to heaven. Even the most hesitant of them, Lucas who has only ever know this house and is timid and sensitive, is in heaven. Sambam is just in aw. It’s like she’s been left alone in a candy/toy store. Her favorite part is her closet, she insists she’s going to sleep there. I share the sentiment, it’s been a long time since my clothes haven’t hung from a pipe in the basement. I asked Thomas what the best part about leaving this house was and he waved his arms around to indicate all of it. It’s taken us over 11 years, but Pat and I have finally been able to give our kids what we’ve always wanted for them. I don’t even care it’s rented; that means if shit breaks, someone else has to fix it. The neighborhood is safe, the schools are great, I want to die of old age in this house! We can rent to own so that might damn well happen!

Here is this problem: This very first month, with the costs of moving, and some new financial sources not yet kicking in, we are in the biggest financial pickle we have ever been in. I am asking, hoping, wishing that those who might be able, to kick a buck or two or whatever you can our way. We are desperate. This money wouldn’t be covering shit and giggles, but the essentials of life. If you can help, please visit the donation button to the left which will go straight to my paypal. It’s always been there as a thank you for running this site, and as a little extra something which people have very kindly occasionally offered. But now, I really need it there. If you can’t give, please know we understand and love you all the same. We accept happy thoughts, crossed fingers, and blessing of good luck on this next stage in our family adventure, just as gratefully. There is also the option of sharing this cry for help with those you know? Only if you are comfortable with it. But sometimes, just sometimes, magic happens. And we really could use just a little more. (I’m not lying, this house is pretty magical.)

Photos you ask?

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The front of the house, which needs some work but we’re happy to. Thrilled to!

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The back yard! I assure you: Sambam and I have already twirled barefoot in that grass. Skirts swirling, heads dizzy, hearts, glowing, mouths laughing.

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Ah there she is, exploring our first ever covered parking. We’ll finally be able to keep the kid’s bikes at our place, chained to those pillars. But the neighborhood is perfect for afternoon bike rides.

I truly love you all who come here. Please know that. And I thank you all for every visit. For every comment ever left. And for any outcome from this post.

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School is going.  I’m doing quite well, but the classes I’m taking are college writing and Math.  So they were going to go well. Should help pad my GPA for when the going gets tough.  I did realize, much to my delight, that now that I’m full-time I’m eligible for the Dean’s List.  I look forward to my placement this trimester.  You hear confidence because there is no reason I won’t.

I enjoy my Math class being in an actual classroom.  I think I might make a point of one in-class a trimester.  It gets me out of the house in a healthy setting and fashion.  I’m in a place where I’m looking to meet people for various reasons.  Don’t look at me like that, I don’t sleep with every hand I shake.  Not even a notable fraction.

Speaking of… I’ve been on a few first and follow-up dates.  I’ve been stood up a few times.  I had one guy who looked promising end up not being promising.  That sucked.  Though the fashion in which that spiraled out, his loss.  I just recently had another first date also promising with a second date on the horizon.  I still maintain I’m looking for a best friend first and foremost.  The rest is just what it is or isn’t.

Speaking of best friends there is someone a true best friend whom has been there for me as long as I’ve known him and he is so exactly perfect in what I need and what I’m looking for.  But it isn’t to be.  At least I still have that friendship and he is the standard I will hold every other guy on the planet to.  But sometimes… I really wish he could be.  I know I see him as a white knight but in over 2 years and countless tests I’ve never been presented with a hint of a reason not to.  Even Pat supports this friendship though the depths of it are mine and mine alone.  I assume Pat knows I have feeling there.  I don’t have to discuss it with him.  Pat knows my heart.  But even without official discussion, Pat, if he should read this, is nodding along in agreement.  He knows how deeply I care for this person.  And he knows this person is good for me.  And he supports this friendship like he supports me breathing oxygen.  I write this in fear that the other person could someday read this and question if I can be trusted.  I write this knowing trust would never be betrayed.  I write this knowing I wish he would read it and find support where I’m willing to bet he never suspected.  I can’t know for sure but it’s a safe assumption.  I know my husband and my husband knows me.  I am great with secrets but Pat is great with me.

So I dally on with first dates, last dates.  First kisses, last kisses.  Being stood up, and losing hours to unexpected conversation.  Comparing them all to the one who won’t be.

And I’m happy with Pat.  I know the past decade has been rocky, but this feels right.  Not because I get to fuck around, because I’m not, but because this brings me a spark to Pat.  If anything, in my quest to show Pat he is my number one man, I’m looking for new and exciting ways to show him my affections.  In his quest to remind me what I have in him, he’s being the man I always wanted but never realized I had.  He would be doing this anyway, I would be doing this anyway, but this element of the open marriage keeps that spark lit as we are on our toes to never forget the partner that really matters.

We’ve been to the art museum twice, once with the 10-year-old.  He took me to see The Princess Bride on the big screen.  The local theater showed it one showing only.  We giggled together in advance of the scenes we knew were coming.  We spoke along in parts, not the only one in a theater full of fans to do so.  We are going to an art gallery for Valentine’s day.  I have the most romantic thing I’ll ever pull off, planned for late valentines, early anniversary.  I’m excited to romance Pat and be romanced by Pat.

And yes, I’m excited to be in the dating world, even when it has me not wanting to leave my bed from time to time because I got dumped in the most childish way ever.  But I’m out there having fun.  And I don’t mean *nudge nudge wink wink* fun.  I mean the fun of getting out there and meeting people and just leaving the damn house, fun.

Feeling desired and attractive and young and vibrant helps too.  This helps my self-confidence more than it hurts it.  I can’t take getting stood up too personally.  But I’m actually starting to learn I might actually be kind of not ugly.

And that’s been 30 years in coming.

So if you want to know what I’ve been up to in the new year, I’d have to say the answer is reading, studies, and dates.  Good and bad.

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I am in the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee in a secluded cabin with my husband of 10 years and not a single child I birthed in site.  You only with you were me!

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Have you ever known someone who you can talk to for like 30 minutes tops, just to realize it’s actually been 4 hours?

I think I’m suddenly going to be ok in the friendship department.

If I can only have one local friend, then at least I seem to have found the one I need.

Lisa and Dawnie are a time zone away.  No one can fill the shoes those two fill.  Lisa my adventure inspiration.  Coaching me up walls, into boats, and one step further on the pavement.  Dawnie is my soul coach.  She inspires me to greatness in the realms of improving the lives of others.  But they are both so far away.

Faith is almost close, but not close enough that I can see her all the time, so I don’t fully consider her local.  Plus she is moving to Florida in a year.  Of course we’ll still keep in touch, but hanging out even just once a month won’t be an option.  In the meantime, she’ll be my kayak buddy.  (Side track: I seriously need to get back in a boat soon).  We chat though the week and I enjoy the conversation.  It’s good to have a local girlfriend I can talk about families and life with.

Not to be forgotten, Patrick, whom I can share the insides and outsides of my soul with.  Who has been by my side through all of my ups and downs, riding the roller coaster right along with me.  My longest and truest, best friend.

I think the remaining friend role has been filled.  Someone to talk about anything to, who actually understands based on their own life experiences, an doesn’t already know all my stories from having lived through them.  Someone who is also local, so unlike Dawnie, these conversations can take place in a coffee-house, in a book store, sitting in my living room talking though a movie.

So there are 5.  This is the fullest my life has ever been.  I never dreamed I could be this lucky in friendship.  And I wouldn’t change a thing of it.

I have friends I always needed, family I always wanted, a marriage that has been stable for longer than I thought possible, mental health that is stable, a career I’m loving with all of me, and I’m back in school.

I think everything is going to be OK.

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Since the day I crossed the stage and accepted my high school diploma and my (then) friend sat in the audience, his chest filled with pride, little knowing that I’d soon be his, this has been our song.

It’s meaning has increased for me, recently, as I truly appreciate all that he is for me. As he struggles to comfort me in an agony he can’t fix. That he can’t even suggest I throw a pill at because this is life, not mental illness.  Both of us knowing that he is so very much, but can’t be it all.

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I’ve loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more

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I could have handled the sinuses.

It moving to my chest was to be expected.  For me.  Everything moves to my chest.  I have a great chest, after all.

But what I woke up to last Tuesday, the day before my 10-year-anniversary, was a bit much.

I woke up for my shower at about 6.  When I got out and went to lie back down to snooze and meditate, and just procrastinate on being awake (A vital part of my wake-up routine, I schedule it in.  This is why I have 4 different alarms spread between nearly 2 hours every work morning.) I realized I couldn’t shut my eyes, either one, without an intense burning sensation.  It was like the sand paper was covered in acid, as it sanded my eyeballs smooth.  I got a wet washcloth and pressed it hard over my shut eyes and that allowed me to keep them closed.  45 minutes later, I was fantastic and good-to-go.  Aside from the sinus crud.

As the morning progressed, I noticed my eyes were burning, and I kept losing vision.  In both eyes.  I could blink it back, but my vision kept blurring and getting foggy.

Granted, the foggy made sense when I looked in the mirror over my lunch break and observed the layer of snot covering both eyeballs.  Also, the pink and swollen.

Now, I don’t exactly have a ton of experience with pink eye.  I never got it as a child that I know of.  Only my middle little has had it of my 3, and his was so bad his eye was swollen shut.

But while I’m no genius and only play a doctor on the internet, if the eye oozes, you get thee to an eye doctor!  Thank nacho cheese god (a minor god… or major depending on your love of the cheese) for them being able to get me in same day, no notice.

Sure enough.  Thank sweet baby Buddha that it was bacterial pink eye and not viral.  I was only contagious if my eyeball made out with other eyeballs.  Totally killed its plans for the night but I kept it in isolation.  In my head. (That joke was officially taken too far.  I’m sorry.  Not sorry enough to take it down, mind you.  But sorry enough to apologize.)

I’m a baby when it comes to my eyes and putting stuff in them.  Contacts?  No thanks.  The puff of air during the eye exam?  First time in my life I consented, and only because I had a double eye infection.  Eye drops?  Only if I’m dying at it will be my only savior.

Well, guess what.  Pink eye?  I was counting the minutes until my next eye drop dose.  Oh, the sweet and instant relief.  Oh glory to the good stuff!

Granted, I did confirm I could close my eyes, drop it in the corner, and then blink it into place.  The good doctor suggested an extra drop each dose, then ordered me a slightly larger bottle.

Still.  Progress.

So yes, for my anniversary date, I was one hell of a hot mess.  We went to dinner and then played pool, with maximum strength sinus meds and eye meds in tow.

I was bringing sexy back!

Apparently the theme for this anniversary.

Because later that night, I brought sexy back.

And I ain’t referring to eyeball snot. *wink*

*wink*

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I have been married for 10 years as of today.  That is more than 1/3rd of my life.  No joke.  I’m 30-years-old at the end of this year, but not yet.  So my math holds tight.

Way back, before Luke was born, when Pat and I were separated and he had just moved out with our son, my mom told me she didn’t think we’d last.  Pat was a nice guy but…

Thank you, mother, for driving me back to my husband with a determination to make things work, better than anything else could have.

Even now, 6-7 years later, when we go through rocky periods, I reflect back on that moment with my mom, and really all the odds out there, which are not in our favor, and my sheer bullheadedness kicks in and I’ll be damned if I’m going to fall to a statistic.  I enjoy beating odds.

And yes, we have rocky periods.  Sometimes they last days or hours, other times they last months.  I think that’s normal.

Marriage is work whether it’s in year one or year fifty.  Marriage is a lot of work.  It takes effort, patience and in my case, bullheadedness.  And sometimes things aren’t perfect.

But other times things are exactly how Nicholas Sparks would lead you to believe.

Then the rest of the time things aren’t over the moon, but they aren’t in a swamp either, and we can go through the day-to-day married to our best friend, raising our kids, and just enjoying a state of low to no drama, and general contentment.

That, my friends, is a healthy marriage.  The highs, the lows, and the sweet, normal, between.

Happy anniversary, my love.  You are my best friend and my first real love that doesn’t involve the color white and a pedestal.  So with that in mind, I promise not to lose my bullheadedness anytime soon.

(Edit in response to Pat’s response (Really?!?!?) to me singing love songs while writing this: “I’m writing our anniversary post!  It goes live Wednesday at 1oAM  and if you don’t read it, I’ll take back everything I said in it!”)

(Second Edit: Wow, I linked to some crappy times up there.  So I think I should link to where I realized how much Pat loves me. And why our marriage works so wellWhy I love him.  And how he became my hero.  Oh, and he held true to his promise about The Bloggess, though my mom and sister took me, he stayed with the kids making it all possible.)

I’m damn lucky.

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