Still A Better Love Story Than Twilight.

Being one of the younger gals in my ever-growing group of lady friends to be married with children, I feel this is a great place to tell the better part of my “How We Met and Fell Madly in Love” story. Needless to say I’d like to use this post, the whole thing, to talk about my marriage. I had just broken free of the longest (9 months), easily worst, relationship in my freshly turned 19 years and started working rather recently at the local Buffalo Wild Wings. Yes, I can hear all of you sigh that exasperated sigh only a veteran restaurant employee can sigh when learning of a romance that bloomed in the workplace. Complete with the groaning and eye rolling, I got it. But that was not my first workplace rodeo, ladies and gentlemen. I was not naive to the ways of the Kitchen Men.

It was early December. It was one of those cold, sunny Indiana winter days where you could wear appropriate length shorts and get away with it until the early evening when the sun went down. I walked through the back entrance for employees with my friend Aimee, when I heard it. The voice of the man I would very shortly call Work Dibs on. It wasn’t until I was passing the food window that I saw him. Blonde. Eyes whose color rivaled the waves in Hawaii. Ripped to Mars and back. Like, I’m not even exaggerating in the least; I nearly stuck him in the large sink and started washing aprons on his abs. Oh, and his voice. Did I mention yet that he hails from the deepest of back woods in Alabama? He had left to go to college there in Indiana, so he didn’t have a harsh twang anymore, rather a gentle, insanely adorable drawl. I don’t know that my words will do it justice, but I’ll certainly try. To make the most cliché comparison of anything southern it was like the deepest, darkest honey. To top it off, he has a quick wit. There is nothing more attractive than a smart southern man.  He was like most kitchen guys, flirting relentlessly with the servers and hostesses. But, obviously, I had called Dibs so they were limited in their responses. Well, except Meredith. I can’t use a single expletive adjective about that girl while remaining a lady, so I won’t even give her more than this sentence. (Hint: “Oh my gosh, I totally didn’t mean to grab your man junk, I was reaching for the door handle!” On a swinging door? Alex, what is FALSE? ) Moving on…

I suppose you could say we dabbled. Then dated. I learned that he was a popular, super smart, stud of an athlete who could not only pitch a no-hitter but he was also an avid outdoorsman. He was independent from a very early age. He loves to reminisce so, fortunately for me, I found out a significant amount about him in the few short months we dated before our *HOLY SH* SURPRISE moment.

I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t totally shocked and terrified when I discovered I was pregnant with Ayden. Scary stuff, pregnancy. I’m also not afraid to admit I was so incredibly immature then. The amazing thing about children is that whether you’re ready for them or not, they *usually* mature you about 5 years the second they come out.  I was proposed to soon after, in THE most unceremonious of ways. I can laugh about it now, but let me tell you that any engagement story that involves leaving your pregnant, nearly blind girlfriend wandering around, calling you and textually harassing you, designating you a “douchebag” is not one that will be joyously recalled. Keep this in mind, mothers of young lads. Raise them to know that this is not, in fact, the most acceptable way to propose. Nothing less than a heartfelt, intimate, possibly videoed and later montaged proposal will suffice. Although, to give credit where much credit is due, it might not be the definition of “romantic” but he asked me. He asked ME. I was a fiancé. I was going to get married! No feeling rivals that of a newly engaged young lady. Not one.

We wed in the Smokey Mountains in a beautiful little white chapel with only our closest friends and some family there. If you haven’t seen Gatlinburg in November, stop reading this and GO. No! I’m kidding, finish reading and then go. Truly, it’s gorgeous. Our chapel was nestled just atop a middle mountain peak and we had a simply breathtaking view. I can recall walking down the aisle wearing my silk, fire engine red peep toe pumps, praying desperately “Please, Lord, for the love of all things great and right and good in this world, do not let me fall.”. I managed to make it to the altar soundly; splendidly even, tripped only once up a single stair- totally hidden by my dress, WIN- and then had my father and stepfather simultaneously give me away. I looked to my almost-husband for a bit of reassurance and there he was, terrified and waiting. I don’t exactly remember saying the vows but I do remember whispering “sausage, sausages, sausage!” at my soon-to-be life partner to rustle up a laugh. It worked because, obviously, I’m the comedienne of that man’s dreams *neck breakingly vicious hair flip*.

Without getting too in depth in the whole military aspect of it all just yet, (I'm selfish, let me have a few posts all about me...) we have been married 5 years as of 9 months from now, moved 5 times, had 2 children in 3 years, and I can’t imagine spending my days waiting for anyone else to walk through the door. I could say the typical “it’s been a rollercoaster”, “we’ve had our ups and downs but we were meant for each other” and “we have our moments but we love each other and we’re gonna make it!” but I would rather gag on a rusty spoon than spew that overused garbage, even once. So, I will say this. It has been hard. REALLY hard, but so immensely satisfying. We continue to love and argue with and support each other and raise our heathen precious boys to the very best of our abilities. Every day is unique in its challenges. Every sun rise holds the promise of extremely long work days, hyper children, and motherly/wifely/ soon to be scholarly duties to be completed. I love it. I’m so glad I have it.  I hope you have it someday, too, if you don’t already. Nothing is as rewarding to one’s soul as having your own family. That doesn’t have to include children, even. Just being able to delight in sharing your entire being with someone who returns the favor. It’s pretty awesome.

 

Annie Sloan Chalk Paint- Kitchen Cabinets:Part I

Quick note: Part II here!

I finally got around to starting our biggest kitchen update to date! While my husband was off doing some training, I made the ultimate decision to paint The Monsters. I have done extensive googling and pinteresting research and discovered that I do not, in fact, have legit wood cabinets- BUMMER-, but some weird laminated, pressboard that is the stuff of nightmares. The previous owners have done a real number on them. There are so many dings and scratches and even little chunks of cabinet missing that they constantly look like they're covered in some beige splatter which drives me, and any OCD guests...Brittney, crazy.

I finally settled on using Annie Sloan Chalk Paint in Pure White because I've coveted Miss Mustard Seed's kitchen for far too long. The crisp, clean look of white cabinets soothes my soul. The boxwood wreath was my sole motive for going out to purchase my own boxwood shrub a few days ago. That countertop?! I die. Dream kitchen, for sure. So this is the first step towards my own take on the white kitchen.

Now, I had read that ASCP was known best for being used without needing sanding or primer, making it the obvious choice. ASCP is sold pretty exclusively, so if you're looking to buy some, check here to find which retailers, or Stockists, are near you. I had to drive an hour away to get my hands on the stuff. I purchased 2 quarts of Pure White, one tub of Clear Soft Wax and one small sized brush and paid $145.30 total. Quite the chunk of change for 4 items! (Sorry I didn't take the time to clean my brush. You can actually clean them out using water because the paint is water based -hallelujah- but I have been keeping mine in a ziplock baggie when I don't feel like taking the time to rinse and dry.)

I quickly found that my cabinets were not the type of cabinets that didn't require sanding. Being laminated and all kind of completely ruined that, so I took some 150 grit sandpaper and lightly sanded every bit of surface. Tedious, but not difficult.

(QUICK EDIT: Don't bother sanding, I'll explain why in the updated Part II )

As well as dreaming of a white kitchen, I've also been drooling over the "accent" cabinet doors with glass inserts. I've decided I'm doing this to 2 of ours; the one that holds every last cheap glass and sippy cup we own and the one where we keep our tiny collection of matching dinnerware and stemware. One day, hopefully in the not-too-terribly-distant future, I'll have a large collection of glasses and dinnerware that match and are show worthy. Until then, y'all can look at the sippy cups and protein shakers and like it.

Here are the doors, and the cutting tool I used over on the foam in picture 1, during and after the panel removal process:

Please forgive the terrible quality. I've lost my camera and only have my phone, so bear with me...

I ripped out the remaining bits of particle board with pliers and found I have a perfect little lip I can use to lay the glass on. I just need to get a small-scale cutting tool to cut the back lip off, if that makes any sense. I'm going to use  caulk and the type of hardware used to keep mirrors on the wall in bathrooms to secure the glass.
Another phone picture to give y'all a visual:

Here are some "Before" pictures of our kitchen:



And the most recent progress picture:

**QUICK DISCLAIMER**

I am not affiliated in any way whatsoever with the ASCP brand so this quick little review is brought to you only by the humble, novice, opinion of a housewife and mostly inexperienced painter.

The paint itself goes on wonderfully smooth. I needed 2 coats to fully cover all areas, and rarely I would use a third to cover a few missed spots. After drying- which is super quick, I might add- you can use the Annie Sloan brand wax brush to brush in the wax or use a very clean rag to buff it in then wipe it off. I chose the rag mostly to eliminate the hassle of switching from brush to rag. It leaves a nice finish that has been easy to wipe clean. 

Now that I'm about to go attempt to make some more progress, so I will hopefully have another  update for you soon now! Here is Part II! 



May the Bridges You Burn Light the Way

Something I have always struggled with is forgiveness. I was raised in church (stay with me, here. This isn’t a shove-religion-down-your-throat post…) from birth till deciding to take an extended (recently ended) hiatus from the multitudes of saints, sinners, and constant reminders that seem to remind me I don't belong.  I have listened to innumerable lectures sermons taught by equally as many men standing on stage.  I have read endless motivational posters and quotes urging one to forgive and forget. Still, I couldn’t ever fully wrap my head, or heart, around forgiving those who have wronged you or the ones you love.

I could never say I’ve led a hard life, by any means.  However, I HAVE been through much inconvenience. Heartbreak. Trouble.  I’ve been stabbed in the back and it’s not a feeling I would ever intentionally choose to endure again but the world is full of selfish people so we have no choice but to trust those who could potentially hurt us. Maybe that was why it was so difficult for me to grasp the concept of forgiving someone; you trust someone with a small piece of yourself and they reject it in one way or another. Not an easy thing to get over.

I wish I could pinpoint exactly what it was that smacked me in the face one afternoon but, sadly, I can’t. I just know that a certain understanding sort of culminated that I can’t be a whole person while festering over something someone did years ago. This was fairly strange for me, personally, because I come from a line of grudge-carriers. It’s insane how long my family can hold out on you, should you offend them in ANY form or fashion. Most of the individuals in my family are unapologetically passive-aggressive, so you're almost always left guessing what you did to earn that backhanded comment, but they'll most likely deny that. I had to grow out of the mindset that tip-toeing around an offensive subject was the way to end it. Leaving home, getting married, and having kids are all things that put you directly in the line of fire for literally everyone else's opinions and, more often than not, those can be utterly brutal. I wouldn't be able to mentally handle my day-to-day goings on had I not thickened my skin. More importantly, I would have a miserable life if I couldn't let go of the things said and done.Now that I’ve agitated whatever kin may have read that, let’s continue…

Forgiveness, for me, hasn’t been a one-and-done deal for me. In the super short amount of time I’ve been working at it, it’s been a daily act of understanding, accepting, and letting go. That is HARD and I haven’t really had something truly awful happen to me to warrant a life-long resentment. Not yet, anyway. I have, however, been a victim of unjust accusations that were pretty significant. Generally, instead of choosing the passive-aggressive route, I opt for full on, awkward confrontation. Should the situation not be resolved complete with adequate apologies and all, I simply drop the person from my life. Cut all strings. Burn the bridge. It’s easier than you would think. The only problem with that is the complete lack of closure to the situation. That can eat you alive from the inside out. It can genuinely make you a hateful person. That SUCKS. I would know, because I would occasionally find myself randomly thinking hateful thoughts and I disliked being that person even if I didn’t realize it at the time.

I recently reached out to someone who had hurt not only me but my entire little family so profoundly that we didn’t talk to or acknowledge this person for 3 years. They were immediate family. Like I said, easier than you think. *Kanye shrug*. After 3 years, the hatred intense dislike was basically routine. It’s habit. Easy; natural even.  However, forgiving this person has opened the door to being able to move on with my life. I didn’t realize how much their actions and words had affected me until I let them all go. It’s an incredible feeling. 

The hardest part in ALL of this being able to discern the difference of when you can forgive someone and maintain that relationship and when you have to forgive by letting them go. I, personally, have what some would call an unrealistic faith in humanity despite being proven wrong countless times. I was taught that everyone deserves a second chance. The benefit of the doubt. Give someone a legitimate chance to redeem themselves and you’d be surprised to find that some will actually rise to the occasion. Not everyone, obviously, but why not at least give them the chance to either seal their own coffin or step out of the hole they've dug for themselves? More importantly, you have to realize when the offender is doing more harm sticking around than benefiting you as a growing individual.  

Realize when to let a hurtful, hateful person go. Acknowledge when it's time to cut the strings. Understand that letting them go will let you go further in your life because you don’t have the weight of their so-called friendship. Know that there are times when the bridges you burn light the way.