bluegrass redhead

7th Grade Life List: 14. Meet Dean Cain

In 7th Grade, one of my teachers had a set of self-improvement books in her class. The teacher was Mrs. Shelton. The books were on the bottom shelf. I remember devouring every one. I don't remember what the books were called or much of what was contained within the pages. I do remember the author emphasizing the importance of goals and recommending writing down every thing you wanted to accomplish in your life.

So, I did. I made a list of 60 items ranging from "Deliver a baby" to "Win an Oscar, Tony, and Grammy" and for 21 years I've kept that list.

Let me tell you. Seventh grade Sarah dreamed BIG.

My 2014 Summer Reading Guide

I've had several people ask me recently for book recommendations. Whenever more than about three people ask me a question, I immediately turn my response into a post. It's like blogger law, y'all.

There seems to be two approaches to summer reading guides. First, many share what they plan to read over the summer. I suppose that's fine but what if what you want to read turns out to be truly awful. No, I prefer the second approach, which is the approach my friend Anne takes on her blog The Modern Mrs. Darcy.

Side note: Anne basically writes the best summer reading guide EVER because she is a prolific reader and smart as a whip. I am an amateur at this. She is the real deal. So, after you finish with reading my guide, run on over and get her's. Seriously.

I read on average 2-3 books a month. Not exactly prolific, but nothing to slouch about either. This year I stumbled across some serious gems that I think you should add to your reading list!

A Separation Saves A Marriage

You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.”

I found this quote one day while wasting time browsing on Pinterest. I pinned it immediately and thought: “YES!!” I definitely could relate.

Two years ago my husband and I separated. Our marriage had slowly fallen apart and we were nothing more than 2 roommates raising our two girls. We didn’t fight all the time, but we hardly spoke to each other either.

We had our two girls 17 months apart. I think we got so consumed with that, we forgot to communicate. We became parents and forgot what brought us together in the first place.

Over time, we talked less. I resented him for the lack of help me gave me around the house and with the girls. He resented me for the little time I wanted to spend as a family. Instead of talking about it, we each just let it brew internally until one day I woke up and realized I could not live like that for the rest of my life. The thought made me so sad.

I finally gathered up the courage to ask for a separation. It was shortly after Christmas and I was just tired of feeling so lonely. The final straw was him buying a new truck against my wishes. I finally spoke what I had been feeling - that I wasn’t happy at all and I wanted to move out. I was so unhappy at this point that I had no desire to even try counseling or try to work it out.

Telling the girls was horrible. They were almost 6 and 4. I sat down and told them that Mommy and Daddy were going to take a break but we loved them very very much. Looking back, it’s sort of a blur because it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.

I remember the day I moved out like it was yesterday - packing up my things while my oldest was crying. It was the hardest thing I ever did, but I knew I had to. I was slowly dying inside and knew that if I wanted to be a good example to my kids, I had to find myself again.

As relieved as I was to pull away from the house that night, things didn’t really get any easier. My husband was hurt and angry. He knew we were unhappy, but he had no idea just how much. When he is hurt or angered, he can be a bitter, vindictive man. He doesn’t think and just spews hurtful venom, trying to inflict pain. He pulled out all the stops when we were separated to hurt me whenever he could. Things got ugly. And messy.

Looking back on things, I think that this is when I realized what strength really is. I had to be strong to keep functioning at work. Most importantly, I had to be strong for my two little girls that needed me. They needed to be reminded all the time that they were loved so much. I wanted them to know that no matter what, everything would be ok.

Sometimes it didn’t seem like it, but I truly believed deep down it would be alright eventually. I was living with my mom during this and she was a great source of comfort at my low points. When I finally told my co-workers what was going on, they were also great, even buying me flowers to cheer me up.

Convincing the girls it would be ok wasn’t always the easiest, especially for my oldest. She is pretty sensitive and this all hurt her deeper than I realized. I tried to get them excited about little things sometimes like moving into an apartment but most of all, I just made sure that they felt loved.

I had my bad days and things weren’t always easy – especially when I didn’t have my girls. There were days I would come home from work and curl up on the bed, sobbing. I went through more boxes of tissues than I care to admit. I had more than a few sleepless nights. Sometimes I wasn’t sure I would make it and wondered if it would ever get better.

And it did get better.

We started communicating better for the sake of our girls. Our family was important to us and we wanted to save it. We even started going to counseling together and I went separately. We started working on the issues that made our marriage fall apart, such as lack of communication. I confronted my depression head on. I suffered depression on and off since the birth of my second daughter. It made me withdraw and not really want to do anything. I couldn’t take care of my marriage if I couldn’t take care of myself.

I never intended the counseling to save our marriage. I went so that we could be better co-parents. As we began talking more for the first time in the past four years of our marriage, I had hope we could work things out.

I remember the turning point very vividly. One day the counselor asked me if I wanted to save our family. I broke down in tears and realized that I wanted to try. We started spending time together, alone and with the girls. We would go to lunch, date nights, family trips out. I started to spend a few weekends back at the house to try it out. After doing this for a few months, I officially moved back in.

It would have been easy for us to just let our lawyers fight things out. To get divorced and become another statistic. I think it took incredible strength on both of our parts to admit our faults and open up to each other.

I hope that we set a good example for our two girls to never give up. I hope that we showed them not to settle. I hope we showed them how important it is to communicate. Most of all, I hope we taught them to be strong.

Things are good now, maybe better than they ever have been. While this was a hard time for our family, I don’t really regret it. I think it was a necessary stop on our journey through this life together and made us stronger than ever.

Laura is mom that loves to write, read, and have her morning coffee. She keeps busy with her husband, her two daughters, and her two dogs. You will usually find her out geocaching with the family, reading a book, or playing on her iPhone/iPad.  You can read more at Not Just 9 To 5.

This post originally appeared on Salt & Nectar.

Ninjago Birthday Party

Surprisingly absolutely no one, my two boys love all things Lego® and have grown particularly fond of the Lego® franchise NINJAGO. When I first broached the subject of a shared party, I asked what they wanted as a theme and Griffin immediately shouted, "NINJAGO!"

To which, Amos responded, "YEAH, NINJAGO!"

Unanimous. So, we got a NINJAGO invites (which I designed myself), NINJAGO cake, and I made NINJAGO balloons. Every kid at the party got to decorate their own karate headband and we had a karate instructor come give a quick lesson. Add a bouncy castle and you have all the ingredients of birthday party success!

Safety, risk, and leaving children unattended

Earlier this week, Salon published a personal essay by Kim Brooks entitled ”The day I left my son in the car”. Almost immediately, I had friends sharing the article with me on Facebook.

The description read, “I made a split-second decision to run into the store. I had no idea it would consume the next years of my life.” When I first read that, I assumed the article would be another scary story about how one small decision as a parent can leave your child injured or worse.

Nope. Brooks left her 4-year-old son in the car while she ran into buy headphones and when she returned a few minutes later her son was perfectly fine. The reason that decision changed her life was because a bystander filmed her leaving her son in the car and then turned her into the police. As a result, she spent the next two years in court and had to do 100 hours of community service and take parenting classes.

First, let me be clear. I have left my children in the car. I don’t know if it qualifies as unattended because my rule is I have to see the van the entire time, but I’ve done it. (I don’t do it anymore because Griffin can now get out of his seat and a child in a car seat is a very different thing than a child loose in the vehicle.)  In fact, I’d be lying if I said I haven't done it a few times when I can’t see the van.

Not only have I done it but I refuse to make excuses about why I did it and the reason is simple. I don’t think I did anything wrong and I don’t think Brooks did anything wrong either.

Why I hate public playgrounds

Let’s have a chat about public playgrounds shall we?

A year or so ago Paducah FINALLY got one of those awesome indoor playgrounds in our mall. Lined with comfy seats and filled with padded playground equipment it is perfect for a rainy day when the kids need to jump and play and Mommy needs to sit and drink her latte.

When they first started building it, I couldn’t WAIT for it to open and we would go a couple of times a month – more in the winter months when outside play really isn’t an option. I absolutely loved it. Despite the hand sanitizer stations (which I loathe), the playground is well-designed for me to sit and read while keeping an eye on the boys.

However, recently I’ve come to dread going to the playground.

It all started a couple of months ago. I saw Amos and a little girl about his age wagging their fingers in each other’s faces. She seemed to be giving as good as she got so I didn’t worry too much about it. Next thing I know the little girl’s father is standing over me.