We do a different kind of mushy in this house
I don’t do mushy well. Never have. I didn’t grow up in a mushy house so it doesn’t come naturally to me.
”I love you” gets said or texted multiple times a day. Alerts are set on phones to remind the other person we love them. Compliments fly like crazy, even if it’s just a “hey, you didn’t annoy me today as much as you did yesterday.” There is no doubt that we are in love and that we truly do adore each other.
But I don’t do mushy. I tried the other night. I turned off the TV, gave my best doe eyes and tried…what came out?
"I just…don’t make a big deal out of this…but just…I wouldn’t actually leave you for Simon Cowell."
if i ever met satan the first thing i would say is “did it hurt…when you fell from heaven??” It would be hilarious. The next thing I would do is probably burst into flame and get impaled dozens of times but it would still be hilarious
(Source: slaphat, via traumtrager)
There are times when I look at him and I am so overcome with love. Just hanging out in jeans and a t-shirt and I wonder what I did to deserve such an amazing man’s love.
I’m obnoxious, and a brat. I want what I want as soon as I want it and not a second before or after. I’m demanding. When I have a bad day I take out on him (I don’t mean to, and I always apologize). I think I know everything and I don’t like being told no.
But he loves me. Every single day he loves me. And he tells me that, and shows me that (although not every day). And I don’t know why I deserve it. And sometimes I’m terrified of messing it up.
He is the only person who has ever made me believe that fairy tales are real. He is the only reason I believe in happily ever after. He is my prince charming, and he treats me like a princess.
I just love him.
I see your shifting gaze, that disgusted glance. I know you’re questioning my parenting from across the elementary school assembly.
Let me tell you a little story about the kindergarten student with bright purple hair, my little Raven Marie…
A month before school started she decided to play hair stylist with the craft scissors, and to save what was left I had to opt for a pixie cut. She was absolutely devastated. It was about three hours before she stopped her harsh sobbing and hiccups.
She has thought that the length of a girls hair was what made her “girly”. I know I’ve personally had many hairstyles around her before, including a purple mohawk, which many people criticized as not being “girly” enough. Media, other children, other parents, and society made it worse. She would randomly burst in tears while out in public for the first week of her new style, screaming that she looked like a boy. That everyone would think she’s a boy.
At one point she took off her bow in her hair, threw it at a cashier and screamed, “I DON’T NEED THIS BOW TO TELL YOU THAT I’M NOT A BOY, BECAUSE I’M NOT”
Proudly stomping away in her blue jean overalls, head held high.
Once we edged closer to the first day of school she kept asking questions like, “Do you think the other kids will like me? Do you think they’ll be my friend? Will they think I’m a boy? Will they pick on me because I have boy hair?”
So I went to the grocery store, bought some dye, and spent the whole night transforming my bright blonde little girl into a plum punk rock fairy. I then assured her that if any of the kids didn’t like her, they were just jealous.
As for you, mothers and teachers with the wandering eyes filled with disgust and judgement, I’m in the business of raising a free spirit.
Here’s to you, Raven Marie. I love you.
Idle hands are the devils handy work
I’m sure there will come a day when I feel like the house is complete…but today is not that day.
The front yard is completely torn up so Scott can reseed this weekend since our grass had become more weeds. You would think that would be enough right now, but no
We went and looked at hardwood floors this weekend, and fell in love with one, so now we wait for it to go on sale so we can redo the upstairs floors over Scott’s “Christmas Break”…which means we have to paint the kitchen cabinets, and all the trim, and door frames, and doors, and window ledges. Oh and I want Scott to build a window seat in our bay window so we can get a new dining set and have the window seat as a bench (and for more storage)
And we just finished our basement in March…you would think that would be enough of a project to keep me satisfied, but nope, it just made me want to get everything else done sooner.
Oh, and we’re also trying to pay down all the debt so if I ever get pregnant I don’t have to work (which I don’t honestly think is going to be able to happen and I’m slowly coming to peace with that)
But if I keep busy with everything else I don’t have time to dwell on other things.
Swimming swimming just keep swimming.
like imagine if you’d never seen a dog and you saw a saint bernard and you were like, what’s that and then someone was like, thats a dog. and then you saw a chihuahua and you were like ok whats that and they were like, that’s a dog. wouldn’t you feel lied to? wouldn’t you sense that something was amiss