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Recently I received an email from my friend, Injun Mike.  He checks in with me now and again and always has the sweetest things to say.  He said he missed reading my posts, especially the ones having to do with my kids.  Then he mentioned the baby.  My youngest, who isn’t so much of a baby anymore.

I mean…she looks like this now.

I used to have all kinds of stories to share about her.  I guess there are still things I could share about her.  Like this week Mason (the boy – not to be confused with Mason, the girl who happens to be her best friend) said hey to her.  Exactly!  Hey.  It’s so romantic!  He’s said two whole words to her at school this year.  The first was Hi.  The second was Hey.   I know!  Before we know it the words will become two syllables.  Hello.  Howdy.  And then phrases…how you doin’?   And how’s it goin’?  Ahh…they grow up so fast.

But I am not here to talk about the grown-up girl.  I’m here to talk about her when she wasn’t so grown up.

When she looked like this.  Awww….how sweet.

Here she is during the final school performance her first year of Turkish school.  They did a little dance and sang some songs and got a certificate for making it through.  One thing I was always thankful for was that the kids had to take English.  I mean my kids didn’t really need to learn English, but I was glad that someone there could speak to them in English.  I was glad they weren’t completely language locked.  During this final performance we sat in the audience excited to see and hear all she had learned.  She did her dance.  Adorable.  She sang a Turkish song.  Cute!  Then the class sang a song in English.  And Anna Grace sang right along.

Get out of bed.  Wash your face. Wash your face.  Wash your face.  Get out of bed. Wash your face and run, jump, let’s keep fit. 

Get out of bed.  Clean your teat. Clean your teat. (Wait a minute…are they saying teat?  Who sings about cleaning their teats? Wait…those hand motions show them brushing their teeth.  Good grief.  Look at AG.  She’s singing teat just like the rest of them.) Get out of bed.  Clean your teat and run, jump, let’s keep fit.  And by this point we were giggling so hard we almost fell out of our chairs.  Our child, who had absolutely no problem saying the word teeth had learned this song from a Turk, who like most Turks, had trouble pronouncing the /th/ sound.  She learned English alright.

I had to show you Jacob’s class as well.  He wore this shiny, pink shirt.  He looked adorable!  He danced and sang and worried what everyone would think of him in this pink shirt.  Then his class had a wardrobe change.

And he came out in a sassy, red Spanish number similar to this.  (And how I don’t have a picture of him in this shirt I’ll never know!)  And he danced and smiled and was perfectly fine because this shirt was red, his favorite color.  Never mind that he swayed and stomped and sashayed around the room.  It was red, and who would make fun of him in a nice, sensible, red shirt?

This has been one of the craziest weeks of my life.  So much emotion spilling forth in drips and drops and cups and gallons and floods.  A full range of emotions.  It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this much.  And honestly, much of it sucks.  I don’t like to feel anger or sadness.  I don’t like to feel frustration.  But it is what it is and I couldn’t stop the feelings.  I had to allow myself to feel them.

Then there were the fires all around us.  My school sits less than 20,000 feet from areas that have been evacuated.  We haven’t been allowed to go outside for recess the entire week due to the smoke and ash in the air.  And really…what is recess compared to people losing homes and belongings?  Our principal and several teachers have had to move themselves or loved ones away from their homes.

It’s no wonder that I sit at home today with a migraine, watery eyes, and a dry, strained throat.  The smoke got to me I guess.  The smoke and emotions together pretty much knocked me out.

I’ve recently started seeing someone new.  This may come as a surprise to most of you.  Most of you might not have even realized that Fleur de lis and I are no longer a couple.  That happened during the blogging break, and it’s not something I want to talk about.

But about this new someone.  We started out as friends as all good relationships do.  She thought I wasn’t interested in her which I find amusing, because I was so busy that it wasn’t even something I thought about.  I enjoyed hanging out with her, but you guys have read about my life.  It’s nonstop.  I wasn’t sure where I would find time for a relationship.  The more I got to know her the more I liked her.  She shared herself so honestly.  That impressed me.  She wasn’t pretentious or proud.  She liked me and wasn’t afraid to tell me that.  Wow.  I knew I would eventually write about her here.  I’ve thought about what name to give her.  What name would fit?  I decided she would be Sweet Tea.  She has had some intense moments in her life.  Things have happened that could have made her bitter.  But she isn’t bitter.  She is sweet.  Her approach to life reminds me of something my grandmother always said.  When anyone would ask her how she was doing she would always exclaim, “Well, I can’t complain.  It wouldn’t do me any good anyhow.”  And that is how Sweet Tea is.  Stuff happens.  She might get frustrated.  Then she puts on her big girl panties and deals with it.  The bitter is covered with sweet.  I love that.

Sweet Tea has children.  I am loving that, too.  Her kids are around the same age as my oldest.  The daughter who still lives at home has become my oldest daughter’s good friend.  It has been fun watching them.  Because Sweet Tea’s kids have always known she is gay I knew something would have to be done about my kids if we all continued to spend time together.

One night last week Sweet Tea stopped by just to say hi.  My oldest daughter was here as well.  After Sweet Tea left and it was just me and my daughter at home I told her I wanted to talk to her.  I told her that I was dating Sweet Tea and asked her how she felt about it.  She said she had suspected since December that I might be gay.  That she didn’t care.  This didn’t surprise me.  And then she ooohed and ahhhed like teenage girls do when people are dating.  And she said she really liked Sweet Tea.  She also said that some time back she and the boys had discussed that me being gay might be a possibility.  She doesn’t think they will care much.  She did agree with me on my youngest.  She is going to go ballistic when she finds out.  She has already had some issues with me spending time with Sweet Tea.  With her being around.  Yesterday Sweet Tea and her daughter were at my apartment.  My four kids were there as well.  We played and laughed and had a great time.  My youngest said she had fun.  It was the first time she had allowed herself to do so in their presence.

I have a feeling all of the kids will be finding out sooner than later just based on how things are going.  Sweet Tea’s daughter is around, and she knows.  In fact she accidentally called me her mother’s girlfriend in front of my youngest two.  Somehow they didn’t hear her.  I thought it was funny.  My oldest is around, and she knows.  And good cow we all know she can’t keep a secret.  Sweet Tea is around, and despite the fact that nothing has been said I can’t imagine the kids not figuring it out.  Her attentiveness and demeanor speak volumes.  I’m not worried or scared.  My divorce lawyer suggested that I let the kids deal with the divorce and the changes that came with that before I ever said anything about being gay.  I thought it was good advice.  I didn’t know how long it would take before I felt like telling them.  At first I thought it would happen fairly quickly.  I was in a relationship so it seemed like it would be natural to tell them.  As time passed though I never felt ready.  I don’t know why.  I didn’t have a good reason.  I just wasn’t ready to say anything.  Sweet Tea says that I’ll know when the time is right.  She doesn’t want me to feel pressured into telling anyone anything I’m not ready to say.  I’m glad she has that attitude.  That’s what I’ve felt all along.  Funny thing though…at this point I think actions are speaking louder than words.  It’s becoming so obvious that words are about to become necessary.  I’m glad.

It’s been almost three years since this whole thing started.  Since I chose to board the gay train instead of letting it pass me by like countless times before.  So much has happened that it seems like it must have been longer than three years.  It took me a year from when everything started to get to that point of being ready and able to tell people and to move out.  That was two years ago.  My kids have dealt with a lot in the last two years.  Through it all I’ve tried to be somewhat steady for them.  It was hard at first, but they’ve seen me pull through.  They’ve seen how much happier I am.  There have been some hard times in the past two years, but they haven’t crushed my spirit.  Happiness always won out.  It bubbles up from inside me.  Happiness, contentment, joy.

So I raise my glass of Sweet Tea in a toast to my future.  Wherever it takes me I will count it all joy to have been on this journey.

So it’s been over two weeks since I blogged.  Not a big surprise considering school started, but I did hope to blog more often this school year.  Maybe that will still happen.

School hasn’t been as exhausting as in the past.  I think that has more to do with the fact that I’m teaching 5th graders rather than Kindergartners.  5th grade is so much easier.  I feel like I’m actually getting to teach something rather than just babysit and discipline all day.

My teaching partner is new to the school.  He taught high school ag several years ago before going into finance.  He decided to return to his first love and took a job teaching math and science to 5th graders.  He feels like he is babysitting and disciplining children all day.  I guess it’s perspective.  For me the kids seem so much more mature and able to do things than what I was used to, and for him they are so much younger and less able than the students in his past.

While I haven’t been exhausted like before I have been busy.  So busy.  There seems to be a lot of stuff to do, but I don’t leave feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus on a daily basis.  That’s nice.

Maybe there will be more blog time now that I’m finally getting the hang of this whole teaching big kids thing.  Maybe.

I don’t understand the argument.  How someone can say that being gay is a choice.  I get what they are thinking, but I don’t think they’ve thought it through.  Using the word choice as a blanket term for the reason people are gay doesn’t make sense.

In high school I fell in love with my best friend.  She was funny and sweet and pretty much perfect.  We were inseparable.  We spent so much time together and were so close that my mother once asked me if I was gay.  I was appalled.  Shocked.  And denied that such a thing could be true.  I immediately chose a boy to date just to avoid that thought ever going through anyone’s head again.  But the thing was…it was stuck in my head.  Was I gay?  My friend and I continued to be close, but there was a boyfriend buffer there to help.

In college it was the same song, second verse.  Girl vs. Boy.  No way I’m gay.  Choose boy.

Later I met my future husband.  He was funny and sweet and pretty much perfect.  We became best friends, but secretly I wanted more.  I wanted to date him for over a year before he finally asked me out.  I was thrilled.  Overjoyed.  Ecstatic.  The first time he held my hand I was nervous.  And the first thought that entered my head was, “Wow…my friend is holding my hand.  A little weird, but I wanted this.”  And the first time he kissed me, “Oh my gosh, my friend just kissed me.”  I figured it was the transition from friendship to more that elicited those thoughts.  I got used to holding his hand and kissing him.  It was good.  Sweet.  We got married.  We had children.  We had a happy life.

Numerous times during our married life I came across women I was attracted to.  Usually I ran the other way when that happened.  I chose to ignore those feelings.  I chose my husband over all others.  Until one day I couldn’t.  I was with my best friend.  She was funny and sweet and pretty much perfect.  And I was faced with a choice.  She was standing in front of me asking me to kiss her.  Willing me to.  The battle of choices raged in my head.  I chose to give in to all those overwhelming feelings of desire.  And the most irrepressible feeling of finally washed over me.   I didn’t choose to feel that way.  It wasn’t weird or unnatural or gross.  I didn’t think about the fact that I was kissing my friend.  All I could think in those moments was was that one word…finally.  Finally I felt what everyone always talked about.  The part that I had somehow missed.

Later, after deciding to go our separate ways I wondered about it all.  I was still married.  He had forgiven me.  And he said I had a choice to make.  He was right.  My choice was to continue to stay married to him or to leave.  I fought myself over that choice for a long time.  I couldn’t imagine getting a divorce, but I also couldn’t imagine continuing to kiss him knowing what a finally kiss felt like.  I chose to leave.

So yes, there were choices.  I made them.  I chose to act on the feelings I felt, but I didn’t choose to feel them.  I chose to be with a woman, but I didn’t choose to be attracted to them.  I chose what came naturally to me instead of choosing to continue to force myself to try to feel something I never would.

I know I’ve already posted, but I had to link this here.

Awwwww…..

So cute!

My youngest child is turning 12 in a week.  Over the past year or so she’s been asking to redo her room.  Her dad bought her a few things, I’ve gotten her a few things, and she’s spent her own money on some stuff.  Even though it sounds life she’s been doing a lot of shopping her room still didn’t look redone.  She got a new comforter set in a snazzy zebra/pink leopard pattern, but her walls were bright yellow.  She found a lime green basket for her flip flops, but her walls were still yellow.  The cool lamp with the various shades of pink, the lime green boxes to hold her important stuff, and the feathery zebra throw pillow were all cute, too, but those walls were still yellow.  She also had an antique bed and a hand-me-down dresser that looked great with the blue and yellow room she inherited but not so great with the zebra, pink, and lime green room she envisioned.  Something needed to be done.

A couple of weeks ago she and her brothers went on a trip with their dad.  A two week long trip.  A trip that meant I had time to do something about those yellow walls.  I moved everything I could lift out of her room and recruited help from my dad.  We painted those yellow walls bright pink.  I stood back and looked at our work, and while it was a huge improvement it still didn’t seem like enough.  I decided that the furniture had to go as well.  My dad and brother came over and took the offending pieces away.  Much better, but OMG it was empty and I am not a decorator type.  I know what I like when I see it, but I can’t see a completed room in an empty one.  My oldest had stayed in town because of her job so she was now recruited to help.  We went to Ikea and bought a new dresser and side table.  I got online and purchased a twin mattress and frame.  Add curtains, knick knacks, and a whole lot of love and we finally finished yesterday about 2 hours before she was due home from her vacation. 
When she arrived she knew something was up.  In a moment of frustration on their trip she had been told there was a surprise waiting for her if she would get herself together.  We played it casual and talked about the trip for a few minutes before she noticed that her bedroom door was closed.  She looked over at me and hesitantly asked why her door was closed.  I said something about trying to keep the house cool so I closed doors.  She made her way to her door and screamed when she opened it.  She couldn’t believe how much we did.  She said that at one point when she was thinking about her surprise she wondered if I would do her room.  She said she figured it would be painted maybe.  She had no idea we would go all out.

This smile hasn’t left her face since.  So worth it!

(Sorry for the blurry pictures.  They were taken with my unsteady hand and my phone.  The kids took the actual camera with them on their trip, drained the battery and never recharged it.)

Once upon a time we lived with another family…well sort of.  We moved to their city to join them in business, and while we got our house in order they graciously invited us to stay with them.  We had 4 jet lagged kids and were overwhelmed with all the newness so we were probably not the best house guests.  We made our hosts’ lives miserable it seemed.  We tried hard to make sure we were quiet, and we made sure to express our appreciation for everything they were doing for us.  It didn’t seem to matter.  We were stressing them out.  We put a rush on our stuff, and finally, after 2 weeks, we were able to move into our own place.  I know they were glad to see us go.

We made a decision that day.  Because of the nature of our business we knew there would be other people coming to our city to live.  We knew that they would need to have a place to stay while they set up their own houses.  We decided that our house would be that place.  We were laid back and knew that we could handle the company.  We didn’t want our business partners to stress out nor did we want others to feel what we felt while staying with them.

That experience had an impact on me.  It challenged me.  And because of it I have a life goal.

I want to be refreshing.  I want to show kindness to others so that they walk away from any encounter with me feeling refreshed.  The goal is based on a bible verse, but I do think it is achievable no matter what you believe.  The verse is Philemon 1:7.  Here it is in several different translations.

New International Version  Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the Lord’s people.

New American Standard  For I have come to have much joy and comfort in your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, brother.

King James For we have great joy and consolation in thy love, because the hearts of the saints are refreshed by thee, brother.

New Living Translation Your love has given me much joy and comfort, my brother, for your kindness has often refreshed the hearts of God’s people.

My favorite is the version in blue.  For me it has been a life-changing experience.  Consciously treating others with respect and love.  It doesn’t matter if you are in line with me at the grocery store, my server at a restaurant, or a friend.  I will be kind.  I will show you love.  I will.  And if I fail to do that, which I will do at times, I will feel sorrow over the encounter, and I’ll hope that someone else made you feel good that day.

Goals like this are interesting.  I set out to make sure I am kind to others and that they walk away feeling refreshed, but I am the one who always feels better.

Four years ago I wrote a blog post about feeling nostalgic.  Here is a portion of that post.

Another memory came in the form of a smell. I got a free bottle of Avon bodywash at a picnic. The first time I used it I smelled my Mamaw Owen’s bathroom. I loved that bathroom. It had a pedestal sink and a claw foot tub. There was a chest of drawers that had no telling how many coats of paint on it in the corner. The bathroom door closed automatically so there was a little wooden stool that she used to prop the door open. The light had to be turned on by pulling a string hanging from the bulb in the center of the room. And there was Avon. The top of the dresser was covered with bottles and tubes of powders, lotions, and shampoos, and the top drawer held even more goodies. For a little girl it was like heaven!

My grandmother raised her children in that house.  It was part of the family.  After Alzheimer’s started to weave itself through my grandmother’s memory my dad and aunt decided it was time to for her to leave that house.  She was to live with my Aunt up north.  The house was cleaned out and sold.  I knew that much of her things went with her to my Aunt’s house, but I honestly had no idea what was done with most of it.

My grandmother died in 2008, and with her death came even more nostalgia over her house and the things I loved in it.  I was sad that I would never get to show my kids some of the things that reminded me of her.  I shared my memories with them, but I couldn’t share the experiences.

This summer during our trip up north we visited my aunt.  At one point during the stay I needed to enter a room that had been closed up.  Imagine my surprise to see this sitting in the corner.

It was the little stool that had propped my grandmother’s bathroom door open.  I had thought about that silly little stool many times over the years figuring it had been given away or something.  It wasn’t good for much more than propping a door because it was so small.  Every time I had ever tried to stand on it it would fall over.  I learned from my aunt that my grandfather had brought the stool home from work one day.  I can’t imagine what grown men used the stool for.  I guess I’ll never know.  What I do know is that some day I hope to get this stool.  It’s just one of those things I’ve always wanted.

And to put the tiny stool into perspective I took a picture of Will standing on it.  Will is 5’3″.  He looks like a giant compared to the stool!  (And then he stood on it for as long as he could to practice for Survivor, because he will be on that show one day.)

Speaking of things that make me uncomfortable here’s another one for you.

Heights.  I’m not scared of heights for myself as much as I am scared for others.  If my kids get near the hand railing of any raised surface my vajayjay shrivels up into an uncomfortable mass.  And yes I said vajayjay, and yes I really mean that.  That’s where it hurts.  Seriously.  In fact it doesn’t even have to be my kids.  It can be anyone’s kids.  Or even some adults.  Once I was flipping through the channels to see what was on, and I stopped on 19 Kids and Counting.  Don’t judge me.  The Duggers were enjoying an adventure exploring some beautiful place.  It was canyon like.  They stood near the edge, and I reacted.  There were so many of them and the kids just wandered around.  At no point was anyone in danger of going over the edge, but it still made me wince.  Then they crossed a narrow bridge, and I thought I would die.  I finally realized that I could turn the channel and not subject myself to the torture of it all.

My kids know this about me and enjoy watching me cringe and react to it all.  Niagara Falls just about killed me.  If they just stood there looking out that was fine.  If they did this I got weak in the knees.  Holding on to the railing and leaning their heads over…no I cannot handle it.  I can barely look at this picture.   At this point they started to pretend to be about to climb up on the railing just to wig me out.  One foot would come up off the ground, and I would freak.  At no point were they ever on the railing nor was the other foot off the ground.  It was just the idea of it all.

I know I have issues.