Okay, Ladies, calm your hormones a tad when you see a woman talking to your guy! Not every woman wants your guy!! Just because you see me or another woman talking to him means nothing, unless you see her rubbing up on him, don’t be so quick to think they are interested. I have had so many women get jealous over me talking to some guy who I have no interest in, even if I had sex with him before doesn’t mean I want round two.

I am not a jealous girl by nature, so I laugh at women with the dirty looks just because I am talking to a guy. He may be “yours” BUT I am allowed to speak to him and he is allowed to speak to me! Don’t get all crazy and jealous because that look is not attractive and you will inevitably look like a fool to your man and to the girl. But if you have a legitimate claim and I mean you see her rubbing up on him or kissing them (it has to be clear! Not your foggy jealous brain either!) then by all means go get them! But be sure who you are coming up against because it may not be worth it. There are some crazy ass girls out there and a black eye isn’t a good look!

I have this ex and I wouldn’t even call him an ex let’s call him a mistake and his girlfriend is extremely jealous so if I see them in the bar or club he has to coddle her just because I was with him two times (and it wasn’t that good to begin with!) so I am definitely not wanting to go back to the guy who could barely get it up! So by all means sweetie keep him! I don’t want him and you are doing the world a favor keeping him so no one else has to deal with Erectile Dysfunction!

So, to the others and yes you know who you are, if you see your man speaking to a girl please just let it go! It will only piss you off to think about it and cause strife in your relationship because you are proving right then and there you don’t trust him!

If you don’t trust him why are you with him!?

Excitement coursed through me when I had the courage to state my dream. It was freeing and empowering. I felt I had faced a huge battle and won. Little did I know that the war was just getting started. I was naïve enough to believe that my friends and loved ones would be my foundation of support and keep me on track. Admittedly, there were a core group that believed in me and gave me support, but the ones that held my attention were those who said it was impractical and I would never succeed.

I can still hear the comments playing over in my head.

“You know you won’t make any money.”
“You’re really not that good.”
“You’re too old to have dreams.”
“You really don’t believe you’ll succeed do you?”
“Maybe you should just try something else.”
“This is a joke, right?”

These comments are all that ran through my brain. A daily diet of this negativity chipped away at my confidence and replaced it with doubt. The five people that believed in me weren’t enough to combat this. They couldn’t help when I no longer believed in myself.

Acknowledging my dream brought me joy for a fleeting moment and heartache for nine months. I had adopted the negative and doubtful diatribe of others and made it my self-talk. Every day I beat myself down for being foolish enough to believe I could live my dream. I felt dejected and rejected. I was not worthy of having and living my dream. I let the naysayers win and I lost myself.

The pain was unbearable because I had given up on something that was a part of me. The day I believed the naysayers was the day my dream died. For nine months I walked around believing I had to accept defeat. For nine months I cried every day. For nine months I mourned the death of a dream. The only thing I hadn’t done was give it a proper burial.

Yet it still amazes me that in the midst of my pain and despair my dream never truly died. I can laugh now because looking back I can see that God was just tearing down the old me and rebuilding a new me. One night in the midst of my tears I received a message from one of the five that believed in me. All it said was, “Why are you giving up on something that is rightfully yours?” That question played over and over in my head all night. When I woke the next morning I was smiling for the first time in a very long time.

Why give up on something that is rightfully mine? I decided that I wouldn’t. The dream that I acknowledged was mine. No matter how much doubt enters my mind the dream never dies because it is truly a part of me. The thing I had to do now was to nurture it and allow it to blossom. The first thing I did was rededicate myself to my dream. Second, I acknowledged that not everyone would share and support my dream. In these cases I would just smile and make a note not to let them rent free space in my head. Third, I viewed rejection and setbacks as being one step closer to a resounding yes and success. Fourth, I did the most important thing I could do… I believed in myself.

For nine months I was pregnant with a dream no one could see. It still lived in my heart waiting to be reborn. My tears and pain made it more determined to come out and great the world. For nine months I was being broken down and rebuilt from the inside out to be stronger in my ability to fight for the dream that is rightfully mine. The war’s not over. I get beaten and lose some battles. However, I can smile in defeat because I know the ultimate victory is mine. I’m fighting for my dream and this is one war I’m winning!

The thing is… in order for me to be right, someone else has to be wrong.  When you push a person to accept that they are wrong then they’re put in a position where they need to defend themselves, their answers, their feelings, or their responses.

So, I started to wonder what would happen if I let others be right in all their wrongness.  I mean, if being right made me happy, surely it would make them happy as well.  And chances are if they were I happy, I would be happy too.  Being listened to and heard is one of the greatest desires a person has.  Not to mention that it is highly unlikely that anyone would actually thank me for pointing out exactly how wrong they were.

I’m not saying that it’s never appropriate to be right.  Just make sure being right is not about stroking your own ego, and if it’s not crucial or life threatening… consider letting them be right, and you can be happy.

And then it happened to me.

I found myself caught between out and out rebellion (i.e. leaving) and being a good wife (i.e. staying). I obviously stayed, swallowing the red pill and sliding down the rabbit hole.

And you know what? I have a new found respect for chicks who stay at home.

Now, keep in mind, I am not your average stay at home mom. I am not rolling in the dough—shoot, our existence is just existence right now. Most of the moms around here live in the proverbial lap of luxury visiting spas and reading interesting articles as their nannies chase the kids around the park. I, on the other hand, am the ALL AND ALL of the household. There is no luxurious lap to sit in—just work.

But beyond the cooking, cleaning, mending, painting, washing, folding, dusting, cooking, parenting of it all, I have found that I spend a great deal of time engaged in some previously elusive endeavors. I actually spend time engaged in activities that I enjoy—secretly, of course!

So first, there is the ability to actually read again. I used to pride myself on being an avid reader, devouring both stateside and foreign novels like so much vodka on a Friday night. Even after becoming fully employed, my childless lifestyle along with my husband’s self-sufficient personality afforded me oodles of time to read. AFTER CHILDREN, if I wasn’t reading Dr. Seuss or pharmacy instructions, I wasn’t reading at all. Now that I stay at home, I get to read again. My youngest likes to interrupt at times but 30 more minutes of Team Umizoomi generally occupies her until I finish that last couple of pages.

Then, there’s the television. I know! I know! Not such a noble pursuit—but I worked in office administration and project management, so trust me, I am not that old fat lady sitting around watching Jerry Springer while eating cake. Nope, in the midst of my chores, while no one is home, I can watch things that I enjoy without having to share the remote, at my leisure—pausing and rewinding my DVR at will as I fold, wash, fold, wash, dust, sweep, mop. NO greater pleasure exists than an NCIS marathon; a new Snapped; reruns of my favorite ANTM seasons; and a smattering of Mobsters, Infested, Storage Wars, Paranormal State, American Gangsters, How It’s Made, and Dives, Diners and Drive-ins.

Oh, and I get to write again. In my post “Who am I”, I talked about being able to identify myself out of just doing, but being a WRITER is a core feature of who I am—it stems from the fact that I am a thinker who happens to share her thoughts through the act of writing. I can spend hours on the computer drafting, revising, revising, proof reading, revising a blog post or article submission or just clearing my head of my thoughts in an old spiral notebook (and yeah, I got some fancy journals but nothing says serious writer like a notebook).

And last but certainly not least, I get to chill. My family is loud. My husband is loudest of all with enough bass in his voice to bust all the speakers—so him on the phone is like standing too close to an amp at a rock concert. My children are like roaring lion cubs, running from room to room yelling at each other from the top of their voices even though they could touch noses they’re so close. All of the televisions and at least one radio are always going. The dryer is on. The dishwasher is on. The blower is own. It gets downright audibly painful. So when I am alone, I can shut everything off and relax in the beauty of a quiet day.

Don’t get it twisted—I work my ASS off, okay? I rarely sleep more than 6 hours. My husband is likened unto a little child some days, so I get up working and go to bed hiding. My children are young so that amount of care is…well it just is. But since I am in this situation, I may as well get something out of it. So I am going to enjoy the secret life of modest leisure that my confinement has to offer with grace and a hint of smugness at my best kept secret.

1.wear frumpy clothes
2.not wear great smelling perfume
3.not pick something that is ( in good taste) and
4. not (fix that face) before going outside.

Now, I am only going to say this once, but be sure and check the mirror before you go out in it!

Also, you can buy some gold and some nice silver jewelry to dress up your simplest outfits. They will do you a world of good.

It is so nice to go out somewhere and feel dressed up because of your accessories, smelling good and knowing that it’s okay that you didn’t spend a fortune…Walmart  jewelry has come a long way honey… So has Burlington’s and just about any Clearance rack you walk upon…don’t be cheap!!!! Spent it on yourself…who else will, if you won’t?

Every year, when I would get my tax return, I would put aside some money just for myself and accessorize my whole wardrobe.

First of all, when you are buying…let’s say new jeans for example…you will need at least 4 pairs of great looking, great fitting ones…2 blue jeans and 2 pair of some other color. Make sure they fit nicely and are not too tight.

Then make sure you buy some cheaper and nice slacks from somewhere you can afford and make sure they fit nicely as well.

Now we are ready for the tops…They should be stylish and nice. Not to low cut. Buy one white formal blouse. And several color, fun tops.  These are for work, or a nice date. You don’t want to look cheap and/or as if you haven’t got any taste…Men adore women with GREAT taste. They don’t want to admit it, but it make s them feel safe and more secure, if they feel like you are not in need of some common sense and taste! (Somehow, a woman that looks great and smells great and looks classy, is a relaxing thing for men).  They don’t have to explain to their friends or ask themselves what they are doing with you! J

Privately ladies: When you look in the mirror the person you see, is definitely not always the person everybody sees. You know when you look good, but clothes and jewelry and smell good, they are all what I call ENHANCERS… No one but you sees the cellulite, or the C- Section scar or the pooch that is located just above it, nor should they have to or want to…so if you’re wearing something that shows your belly and your stretch marks, or daisy dukes that show the world all your anatomy that no longer is what I like to call” READY FOR THE WORLD… pass on it.

No one is trying to tell you what to wear….you should already know. Respect is earned. If you are a young woman whose body has been through some changes, well…find clothing that ENHANCES the body you have, not screams and shouts out that you don’t care that makes people talk about you or disrespect you. BECAUSE THEY WILL! TRUST ME…if it’s comfortable and fits well; if it’s clean and looks well on you, then wear it! Comfort, style and appealing beats uncomfortable, squeezed into and a hot mess ANYDAY! SoLOOK BEFORE YOULEAP…you’ll be glad you did!

This plays out in our household so much more now that I’m at home full time. As my husband spends the bulk of his time away from home (working, dealing in “manly” things, checking in with his crazy friends and taking care of his older children), he has found himself more discombobulated when he enters into our home.

The kids have a schedule. I have a schedule. We don’t vary too much from this schedule. I’m an educator, so I know the importance of consistency—especially in such a transient household like ours, where we move every 7 months on average.. When Bill comes home and says okay let’s do A, I come back with—sorry, we already have B planned due to C, D, and E. I think he has come to hate the natural desire for order in me.

The other day, we had a very aggressive conversation about our relationship. In the middle of these strong words, he hit below the belt.

“And I don’t know what this new controlling ministry is that you have going on, but you need to stop. You have [our oldest daughter] all nervous. She doesn’t know whether to come or go!”

It hurt. But I am practicing something we real Christians call “temperance” and what everybody else calls self control. Rather than get with him, I took a deep breath… and then I apologized.

Then I determined in my spirit that I would show him EXACTLY what my “control” bought him every day. And I stopped “controlling”.

I cannot describe the level of exasperation my loving husband experienced for the next couple of weeks as I remained in the bed, eating snacks and watching T.V. The kids ate noodles and cereal for dinner; he ate whatever he could put his hands on. When the kids got in the tub, I did not bother to get them out—and as their yelling and splashing escalated, I watched his blood pressure go up (his office is across from their bathroom). When it was time for bed, as long as the girls were in their room, I was cool. I let him strain himself yelling and fighting them into bed. Time for school? I didn’t even get up—I directed everything from the comfort of my king size. Oh, and did I mention that house began to look like hoarders lived there?

So when I finally got up from my bed of affliction, my darling husband had a new attitude (trying to find clean drawers will do that to you). And I did what I do best: got everything under control.

Everyone has that one friend that you would jump through hoops to help. What happens when that friend becomes jealous and envious of you?

They’re single, you’re not.
You have a great job and they are robbing Peter to pay Paul just to make ends meet.

You love your friend regardless of marital and financial status. You try not to share your joy too much with your pal because you sense a little envy. To relieve some of the sometimes uncomfortable convo’s, allow your friend to vent occasionally about their issues.

Help set them up on speed dates and other dating sites. Express to your friend that it’s okay to have financial burdens and not to be embarrassed.  Set up a plan of action with your friend to help them get out of debt. Ensure them if they continue to put a little change aside into a rainy day fund that eventually they will have the same financial freedom as you do.

Don’t give up on your friends. Always communicate your feelings.

Communication is key to any relationship.

The conversation that followed was very interesting and a learning experience. Apparently, some believe that there are different levels of singlehood:

1) Single with no prospects and not actively searching for dating prospects,
2) Single and actively looking for dating prospects and actually dating,
3) Single, but it’s complicated and
4) Single and attached, but not living together.

Then there is the “gray” area where you are neither single nor married:

1) being a couple and living together and
2) being engaged.

I listened to all of this and I held my tongue while Miss Almost Engaged spoke. As I was listening I chuckled to myself because I was in awe of the denial of being single. Normally, I would have let one of my other friends take over and address her points, but I needed to speak. The first up was single and no prospects. I informed her that many choose not to date for a myriad of reasons. Some being time, a recent breakup, deciding on quality instead of quantity and taking time to develop a personal relationship with self. Second, those who are actively dating and letting it be known that they are looking have made a decision that they are open to the idea of opening themselves to another person and the possibility of shared intimacy. Third, that those who are single, but have an it’s complicated relationship need to define how much and how long they will put up with it being complicated. Fourth, single and attached is simply being a couple. And finally, there is no “gray” area between being single and married.

The honest truth is either you’re single or married. There are no levels of being single. The government only acknowledges five filing statuses: Single, Married Filing Jointly, Married Filing Separately, Head of Household and Qualifying Widow(er) with Dependent Child. There is no Single, but Complicated, In a Couple, Almost Engaged, Engaged, Living Together Filing Jointly, or Living Together Filing Separately.  The titles used to indicate you’re in a relationship are great, however, if you’re not in a married state YOU ARE SINGLE. Accept it. Embrace it.

So often we proclaim being single is an act of independence because we refuse to be bound to any one person. Other times we proclaim that we’re not complete being single because we haven’t found our other half. Being single isn’t the problem. The attitude towards being single is the problem. Regardless of your relationship status learn to be comfortable in your relationship skin.

*Side note*  Miss Almost Engaged was mad at me for a few days, but she saw my point when her almost intended informed her she was in a relationship, but he wasn’t. Humph… then she realized she had been in an it’s complicated relationship when he became a father two months later.  All I can say is cultivate the relationship with yourself before embarking on one with another human being.