Stand by Your Man

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I’m typing this on my phone, sitting on the front porch. I’m taking a break and getting out of the sprinkling rain for a minute. It’s thundering in the distance and the clouds are thick over head. The dogs are wet and smelly, and the cat just climbed in my lap.

Sounds like the beginning of a lovely story. But it’s just life today. I’m burning brush in the front yard/future pasture. The kids are napping now. Earlier they were playing blocks while I worked. I had to keep running inside to check on them.

My fire has already been doused once. I got drenched too. I changed to dry clothes, and ate lunch before coming back out to work.

It’s raining pretty good now. I’m glad to see it. We need it, bad. But there goes my fire again.

I suppose most people would call it a day and go inside. I’m not most people. And my husband asked me to burn.

I love to burn, anyway. He knew that when he asked, but he also knows he can depend on me. I’m not a perfect wife. I have my share of complaints. I get lonely, then call and bug him at work. I have some irritating kwerks. But I always work hard to help him out.

I’m not talking about laundry and cooking. Though, I do that stuff too. I’m talking about doing “his” work when he isn’t here, just to help him out. I guess it’s partly selfish. I know if I manage to mow before he gets home, we get to spend that time together instead. I also know I’m not a princess and he isn’t a servant. I can’t expect him to work 60 hr weeks, to provide. While I stay home doing the minimum. That would be a divorce waiting to happen.

So I sit here on the porch, with 2 big, wet, smelly dogs and a cat. The kids nap. And I keep running out in the rain to add brush to the fire. It’s a good life.

A place for Everything

Here is some food for thought on this Monday morning!

Ladies, there is a place for everything. And everything should be in it’s place. This goes for your boobs too. I’m so sick of being flashed in public — even at church of all places! Put ’em away. Please.

Before you start thinking I’m just jealous of other women’s figures. I’m not. I’m only 26. After nursing 2 babies, the girls are still pretty perky. My husband says they look great. But that’s for him to say. And not for you to see. No, I’m not jealous at all. Disgusted maybe? Okay, that’s a pretty strong word. Offended for sure. I don’t care if you are young, or old; married, dating, or single. Quit sharing them.

Here’s the deal. We all know you have boobs. We don’t have to see them for proof. When you try on clothes, or get dressed in the morning; do us the favor of looking in the mirror. I’m not saying wear turtle necks every day, forever. (I HATE turtle necks!) Just make sure at LEAST 3/4 of those puppies are left for the imagination!

This is a good rule of thumb, for married women. When you buy something new, before taking the tags off, model for your husband. You know “that look.” If that comes across his face, the top is just too low. If you can’t read his face, then ask if he would be okay with you wearing the garment to go hang out with him and his all male group of friends. If he says “no,” see if you can add a layer under it, other wise return it and try again.

For single ladies, think what your dad, brother, or maybe grandad might say about what you have on. If you think they would question it, or be uncomfortable talking to you while you have it on, then the rest of us don’t need to see so much either.

Both of the rules above apply to garments that may be too tight, too short, or too anything else, as well. Modesty, can be so much more attractive than dressing like a clown.

I know most of this sounded pretty harsh, and perhaps embarrassing. I rather intended for it to come across that way. It’s so important that we respect ourselves enough to dress well. I’m not talking about being fashion forward, and on trend; I am NONE of those things. I’m talking about honoring ourselves, and our husbands (or future husbands)  by saving our bodies just for them.

 

I Hate to Discipline

I hate to discipline my children. I’m not consistent and I’m pretty sure the consequences don’t fit the behavior. I feel like it’s all just a confusing game to make me give up and let the kids revert to being cave-people. But I do like to instruct my children. Granted, some days are better than others, but I enjoy watching them learn.

I’ve tried a few parenting books. But none of them seem to fit the bill. The last one, I barely made it a few chapters in, before I decided the methods just weren’t going to work for me. I did appreciate the concept of reaching the heart of my children, but I’m left on my own to figure out HOW. You see, this writer suggested I quote Scripture every time my children misbehave. Now don’t get me wrong — Biblical instruction is very important, and we are to teach our children the Word of God. BUT, big but; I sincerely wonder if her own children grew up to walk away from the church. I know I certainly would’ve rebelled if my parents had used the Bible as a weapon to show me all the ways I wasn’t a good enough person. I can hardly see how quoting “thou shalt nots” is a very effective way to lead our children TO Christ. And to top it off, she said herself that her own children twisted the Word to fit their purposes later. I mean, how can a 3 year old be given “He who wishes to be first, shall be last” and not come up with a way to make that fit their own needs. They have no understanding of the context there. No, I’ll pass; thanks.

Discipline just seems like a moving target to me. Take last night as an example. We asked Gracie to go potty; daddy even promised a cookie if she would go. A few minutes later she came back and wanted her cookie. But we said no. In fact, we pointed out that she never moved the stool to the potty, therefore she could not have gone, so she was lying to us. She broke down in hysterics. We told her it wouldn’t help, she had lied and she could not get the cookie…… Fast forward to this morning. I was running bath water for the kids and asked Gracie to potty. She climbed on the toilet with out the stool. Oh no. I apologized for accusing her of lying. I texted Brandon to call as soon as he had a minute. When he called, I explained what had happened. He apologized too. Gracie answered with “I’m sorry for lying the truth.” (Cute-ness makes discipline hard too — just saying.) We explained that she hadn’t lied and that we were sorry because we thought she had. See why I hate to discipline?

I’d much rather teach my babies things. I love that Gracie isn’t even 3 yet and she is already a huge help washing dishes. She can rinse all of the silver wear, bowls, cups, and most of the plates. And she does that willingly, because she loves to help. She is learning to make her bed, and to set the table, and she is great at picking up her toys. Skeet isn’t quite a year old but he is learning to put toys back in their buckets too.

I can’t really pin down what the moral of this story is. I just know that if I can teach my kids to be well rounded, hard working self-disciplined children, teens, and then adults; then maybe not knowing how to teach them to share isn’t as big a deal after-all.