Category: Uncategorized

How Do I Have an Affair? (Asking for a Friend)

I sat down at the dining room table the other day and started making some notes. I decided I wanted to have an affair and I needed to make a check list of who I might want to start with. You know, make a list of who I wanted to have an affair with, places we could go together and ways to keep it on the down low…said no one ever…in the history of the world. (I had you going there for a minute, didn’t I? Ha!)

Comments such as “Hayden and Cameron are getting divorced because Cameron had an affair with the assistant coach” and “Reese and Taylor are getting divorced because Taylor had an affair with the secretary” are becoming so prevalent. The list goes on and on.

Who walks that magical aisle on their perfect day assuming they will one day have an affair? Who picks out honeymoon locations thinking in the back of their mind “Oh, in just 29 short years, I’ll be picking out my affair partner”? No one. No one does that.

It is often said in disgust, “they made the choice to have that affair, now they have to deal with the consequences”. Really? Did they make that choice? Did the guilty parties ever sit down and mull over the specific question…to have an affair or not to have an affair? My guess is no. My guess is that specific decision never ran through their minds.

Well, if that decision never ran through their minds, how did it happen? How did an affair occur? How could she agree to sit with him at that bar for two hours while they shared marriage woes? Because he had been coming into her office at work to chat most afternoons and they had developed a friendship. How could she decide to meet him for a scheduled and planned drink? Because she had accidentally ran into him at the pub two weeks prior, had fun and had gotten the attention she craved with two hours of conversation before going home to a spouse that is disengaged. How could he decide to buy her that single rose and place it on her desk at work? Because he knew she loved roses, she seemed very appreciative of the drink he bought for her the other night while his wife no longer shows appreciation for his gifts. How could she decide to meet him at the beach for the day? Because they had already met for drinks (one accidental, one planned) she was given a rose which was so romantic and she was getting the attention from him that she used to get from her husband and by this point, probably felt the proverbial butterflies with all of the attention. Why did he ask her to meet him at the beach for the day? Because he wanted to be more intimate and cozy with her, away from prying eyes, eyes that might recognize what was going on between them.

If he had invited her to the beach for the day without all of the initial chatty afternoons, chance meetings and romantic gestures, would she have agreed to it? Probably not. Would he have ever asked her for such a bold step? Again, probably not. Would either of them have moved past an accidental meeting for drinks if their needs were being met at home? Why would they need to? So nope.

The baby steps we take to the edge of that cliff aren’t as noticeable as the huge leap over. Casting Crowns is a band known for their song Slow Fade that sums up the descent so nicely. Excerpts are as follows:

Be careful little eyes what you see. It’s the second glance that ties your hands, as darkness pulls the strings…

It’s a slow fade when you give yourself away. It’s a slow fade when black and white are turned to gray. And thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid, when you give yourself away. People never crumble in a day…It’s a slow fade, it’s a slow fade…

The journey from your mind to your hands, is shorter than you’re thinking. Be careful if you think you stand, you just might be sinking….

Basically, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it”. Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

So, how do we guard our hearts against an affair? How do we make our marriage a priority when we wonder if it’s even worth it to bother?

For all of us who have been married more than 20 years…or over one year for some…we all know what it’s like to feel ignored, unattractive, undesired, unimportant to the one person who vowed to be our person for all time. Gosh, we all get lazy in our pursuit of this person we chose to be our mate. We get complacent in our quest to win this mate because we already won that race, right? We already have our prize, right? We have their hand for all time, right? Wrong.

I’m pretty certain this “pursuit” should continue until “death do us part”. If not, you both are destined to have a fairly miserable life. We all want to feel loved, cherished, respected, sought after. If not, it’s very easy to be tempted by the first set of eyes that give a little attention. Slicing-through-warm-butter easy!

Spouses, you better be flirting. You better be setting up appointments to date your mate. You better be intentional about making your mate feel as if they are your priority. You both had better be attentive to intimacy needs…out of the bedroom as well as under the covers. You better be giving compliments to each other…in front of others. You better be putting your marriage before your kids, they are moving out one day, your spouse is not. (Settle down, I don’t mean neglect your kid’s true needs.) Spouses you better be seeking ways to serve others together. Spouses you better be constantly setting goals together, working toward them together, then setting more once they are reached.

Sipping coffee at midnight, thinking about our date tonight that was planned 100% by my honey as a surprise…feeling loved and cherished. Do I always feel loved and cherished? Nope. But do I tonight? Yep. ~paula

Rainy Days…

Rainy days are made for writing and lounging on the couch with some coffee, a blanket and Barney, the family wiener dog. (He’s not supposed to be on the couch…but sometimes things happen, right?) The baby boy had just headed back to Florida, the baby girl was napping, hubby was outside in his man cave. Me, alone in the quiet, sipping coffee and thinking. What to do? Blog, of course.

As always before writing, I sat there and let my mind clear. I asked myself what was heavy on my mind today. Missing mom? Half an empty nest? Social Work dilemmas? Those topics didn’t seem to inspire any deep thoughts worth capturing. Food? Travel? Parenting? Still nothing. Marriage? Certainly not. (Some things are best left alone on certain days. Ha!!!)

When nothing sparked an interest, what was a writer to do? How could I call myself a writer if I had nothing to write about? Am I a writer only when ideas flow freely or am I always a writer just with the occasional mental block? Yes. I decided that I am always a writer…just with the occasional mental block.

Think Paula, think. What should today’s topic be? It was the perfect weather for writing…the perfect set up for writing. Just absolutely nothing on the brain worth typing.

Lost in my reverie, I glanced up at the front door as a fairly large, disheveled man jerked back and quickly fled down the front steps. My heart thudded in my chest as I quickly chided myself for not locking the front door but my mind also flooded with thought for the approximate nanosecond long debate, fight or flight? Dad didn’t raise a pansy so fight it was.

Thoughts continued to flood my mind as I jumped up and raced for the door. Had he been watching me? How long had he been watching me? Certainly he had been there for at least a second or two. Muttering numerous cuss words under my breath because of the frustrating scramble between keeping coffee cup upright, the blanket from wrapping around my ankles and Barney from hitting the floor, I finally made it to the door and grabbed the pistol.

My mind raced with fear as I knew my husband was in the man cave. I dashed for the cell phone to give heads up of the man in the yard. No answer of course. I knew what must be done.

I locked down the house, woke the baby girl, provided brief instructions to not open her door until I told her it was okay, set the house alarm and headed quietly out the back door, pistol in hand, ready for whatever was necessary.

Rolling my feet in stealth mode for the descent down the back steps, my eyes scanned for any movement, finger on the trigger, ready. If I hadn’t been so aloof and on edge, I would’ve probably been thinking “Dad would certainly be proud of the awesome skills he had taught me through the years of how to be a bad ass, not to take any shit and to protect you and yours at all cost”.

My back to the house, now on the ground at the bottom of the steps, I squatted down to scan the area, making myself as small as possible to watch the man cave for movement. Keeping my eyes open in constant surveillance, I grabbed my cell phone, flipped it to silent and thought to myself “you should’ve done that before you went outside, goofball”. (Dad would probably deduct some cool points because of that but at least I did it.) I also debated as to whether to send a quick text to the hubby to give heads up…I didn’t want to let Mr. Stranger Danger know someone was out in the man cave from hubby’s ringtone if he didn’t already know. My heart could have almost passed for a double bass pedal as I quickly decided…no text to hubby. Too risky.

Where had Mr. Stranger Danger gone? Did he leave the yard? I never heard a vehicle crank but I hadn’t heard one arrive either. Had he walked up? Had he broken down? If he had no ill intentions, why would he run when I saw him at the door? Still no movement from the man cave. I was frozen in fear. What to do next? Call out to Dan? Just walk over? There was no cover between the house and the man cave. Dad would not be proud if I had been that stealthy and bad ass up to that point, then got abducted, robbed or shot from being stupid right at the last minute. Think Paula, think. Why did I have to keep saying that to myself today?!

As I squatted at the foot of the steps in deep thought, still aloof, scanning the area and making decisions, I heard laughter erupt. Was it coming from the man cave? It seemed to be. If that was someone the hubby had been expecting and they were out there laughing about him freaking me out, I would give them both a piece of my mind…a tongue lashing like none before.

More laughter. I stood up with knees who were angry and frustrated with the length of squat time. Laughter increased in the distance. Putting the safety back on, I bound over to that man cave door and peered in as I heard “mom, wake up, you’re snoring”. The baby girl and hubby stood by the couch in laughter. Nice.

Apparently, I was thinking so hard about what to blog, I dozed off for a nap. Maybe rainy days are also for napping? But as you sip your coffee, just know that I heart writing fiction…and that Dad would most certainly have never condoned me walking out of that house…til the next pot is ready. ~paula

There was this Kid

There was this kid who grew into a man…

This kid would drive a person insane by tattling on you for smooching with your boyfriend. This kid would try to get into your Barbie’s and rearrange legs, arms and heads. This kid would always want to go with you when you just wanted to be with your friends. This kid got approximately 27.8 cars during his high school years when you had only one. (That’s a serious exaggeration, but I’m doing the writing and exaggeration is how I roll. Ha!) This kid would “burn bugs” and our precious but slightly naive mama let it go as truth. (Calm down all you bug enthusiasts, he wouldn’t literally burn bugs, it’s an inside joke, just not my story to share. Ha!) This kid would play his heart out underneath the Friday Night Lights; but then work til exhaustion for a dear elderly family member on Saturdays, bright and early the very next morning.

Baby brother, I’ve watched you turn from a kid to a man.

I’ve watched you fall in love, fall out of love. I’ve watched you make good choices, bad choices. I’ve watched you carry yourself with dignity and self-respect; demonstrating integrity while my former friend and sister-in-law was oblivious that the words even existed. I’ve seen you give love another try and go on to marry the love of your life. I’ve seen you in despair, heartbreak and anguish in heated custody battles; but also saw you filled to overflowing with joy when a daughter finally made it home to you. I’ve watched you pour your heart into things that never came to be; I’ve also watched you succeed abundantly.

I’ve seen so many things baby brother, but what I will never forget, never stop thinking about, never stop adoring about you is the way you loved our precious mama.

For a solid year, you packed up your family and headed home for weekends. You cooked an insane quantity of the most delicious food to feed the multitudes. You spent time with our Dad. You spent time with our Mama. We cried together. We hugged often. We shared. We dealt. We coped. We laughed. We did what was important; spent precious time. You made a point to be at countless doctor appointments; always keeping the mood light with your craziness. And after a long battle fought, you held our mama’s hand while she neared the end. You held me afterwards.

You taught your kids important life lessons during this past year; taught them the importance of family and what it means to truly step up to the plate as a man. You were an example to your sons of what is expected of them as men; you were an example to your daughter of what she should require in a husband.

What more could I ever ask for in a Brother…other than for you to finally admit I’m the favorite? Ha!

Nothing brother…nothing.

I see your hurt and I see your grief over the loss of our precious mama. I see you trying to be strong when you’d rather just give up. I see your pain…it resembles my own. Be strong when you can; let go when you can’t. Talk about her. Write about her. Think about her. But above all else, keep on loving her. She’s still right here with us.

She’s still right here with us…in our thoughts, in our hearts, in our mannerisms, in our facial expressions, in our personalities, in our children.

Thinking of a sweet…but of course MACHO…baby brother tonight as I sip coffee. Praying he knows God has not taken His loving arms from around him this whole time, nor will He ever. ~paula

Siblings by chance; friends by choice. – Author Unknown

The Good Stuff

As I type this sentence, I’m sitting in the car while my 23 yo baby boy drives us to the little town where he plans to relocate due to a new job that begins in two weeks. Scouting out apartments, local eateries, where the beaches are (my own personal need), banks and all the other little necessities to get the baby boy set. I should probably add that I’ll continue to call him my baby boy until I’m 92 and in the nursing home on the dementia wing. Ha!!!

It was announced during church today that the baby boy is moving and will have his last Sunday on percussion next weekend. As I squeezed the mic tight, hoping for strength, I kept looking over at him during worship, trying to soak it in. I knew that my baby boy would only play in that role for one more day of worship. One more Sunday to prepare for worship with my son as a member of the worship team. One more time to feel my heart swell when someone tells him after church how he rocked those drums…and honestly, only one more Sunday to feel that old familiar mama-bear defensiveness creep in if someone sneers about how loud the drums were that day. (Super annoying, but whatever. Ha!) But the good stuff is what I will miss terribly in the months to come. The good stuff.

The good stuff includes moments in time spent with those that you love; folks you consider “your people”. Smiles given, smiles received, eye contact shared, acknowledgment made of a job well done or making certain others know, hey, you’re worth it, I love you and you play an important role in this crazy little circle of ours. Don’t forget the laughter which is one of my most favorite ‘good stuffs’ for the crazy situations we find ourselves in at times. (Man, I love to laugh.)

Often we go through life, weekend to weekend, month to month, year to year and never soak in those moments; those good times that we rarely notice until they are no longer. Those little moments that make the memories; the memories worth hanging onto.

I will always cherish the years of his booming foundation in our worship services; always wish for just a few more sundays; always wish it could have lasted a little longer; always wish that I had been a little more intentional with “soaking it in”.

But here we are. Getting him settled into his new life. Will I miss my baby boy? Heck yes. Will I learn the new normal of having an adult son living his own life? Eventually. Will new moms learn from my writings to savor the years so tightly? Probably not. But do I feel better having expressed all of this broken hearted but proud mama’s heart? Yes!

Praying for future visits with my baby boy, in his adult life, sipping coffee together made by him in his very own coffee pot. ~paula