The Other Woman

There is another woman in my husband's life.

She demands his love and affection. 

She will settle for nothing less than his undivided love and attention.

She climbs into our bed and hogs the sheets.

She thinks she is a princess and the world is her oyester.

She is just over three feet tall and has such a pitch to her voice when she doesn't get what she wants when she wants it, the paint could peel right off the walls.

I've seen it happen.

Little stinker. Flirting gets her everywhere.

This is GG, the million dollar blanket. I wish they came in King size. Best. Blanket. Ever. (Most people call them the little giraffe blanket because of the giraffe on the tag. I call it the million dollar blanket because it costs nearly that. My cousin bought it for her. God bless you Melissa.)

She often says something like, "My finger isn't hungry so I CAN'T eat dinner."

Oh? Ok then.

And then she smiles, because she knows she got him, hook line and sinker.

Oh how she adores her daddy.

 

He's pretty fond of her too. By pretty fond I mean over the moon in love.

I can't blame him.

Cinnamon and sugar crumbs. Because Daddy ran out and bought donut holes. It's what his little girl wanted.

  

I would like to take this opportunity to say that my husband has lost 42 pounds and now has a jawline, which I find to be highly, highly attractive and sexy. Just sayin'.

I think she tolerates him. Just kidding. She eats this stuff up.

Oh, another one? Ok, if you must.

I think I'm framing this one.

Have you ever???

Have you ever been convinced that the conversation you just had with your husband will be the last time you ever hear his voice? Or that the last time he says "I love you" will be the last time you hear him say it to you? Have you ever been convinced that you will never see your husband alive again?

I'm sure that as police wives we all go through times of doubt and anxiety. I go through that on occasion, but usually only after something happens. I feel nervous about letting him go to work, I get worried when he doesn't call or text me, I cry and pray a lot. But it is often a reaction to an event that has already taken place.

Last week, my dad called Officer Hottie to tell him how much he loved him and how thankful he was that he was part of our family. It was very sweet. When OH and I were first engaged he and my dad didn't have the best relationship. My dad always liked him just fine, but as most young men, OH has his own way and idea of doing things and it didn't gel well with what my dad's plan was. That was long ago and any hurts or stresses from that period of time has long passed, but it still feels good to know that my love genuinly loves my husband.

When OH called to tell me my dad had called him he was very sweet. He said how nice it was of my dad to call and how he was glad they had a good relationship. And before he hung up he said he loved me so much, which he always says. When we hung up, I looked around my house, the home we've made together, and our four beautiful children and I started to cry. I just knew that was it. In a few seconds my mind was there. You know what I mean; how would I tell the kids, how would I sleep alone, who was going to notify me, who were going to be the pallbearers, how much music would they allow at the service, which pictures should we find, etc. On and on. Then I started to beg. I begged and begged and pleaded with God to protect him, to not leave me alone. I can't raise four children on my own. We're in the middle of remodeling. I can't finish that. Who will keep my feet warm at night? No one understands me like he does, no one puts up with me like he does, no one smells as good as he does ... our kids like him more than me. Then slowly I started asking for strength and help. For courage. For peace. And for sanity.

When OH called me later, hearing his voice was such relief. What he hadn't told me earlier was that a few minutes after my dad called him he was dispatched to a fairly scary call. He also had been convinced that he was being sent into certain death. It was really just the timing of everything - a seemingly random phone call from his father in law, and then getting dispatched to this particular call. He said he started driving and thought, "Ok Lord. This must be it." So he called me. He said he had wanted me to know that he and my dad really did love each other and that he loved me the most. I, of course, started crying again. I hadn't told him when he called the first time that it terrified me; that for a moment (a long long moment) I thought that just maybe my dad knew what the future held. What he hadn't said was that he felt the same way.

It was an interesting dynamic; both of us being convinced we would never see each other again. Him trying to keep his head on straight so he could do his job effectively, me trying to keep it together so my children didn't see me falling apart for no reason. When he came home that night we couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

I know death is inevitable. I know it's going to happen; one of us has to go first. I don't know if it will be today, or in a year, or in 80 years. I don't know if it will be a gunshot, a car accident, or cancer. I just don't know. And I'm thankful for that. After those few hours when I thought I knew, I realized I don't want to see it coming. I don't want to be waiting for it. I won't sit at home in fear of what I have no control over. Trust me, I've considered it. Every time I get in the car, every time he goes to work, every time he works on our house or climbs up on the roof, every time we leave our children to go on a date or a vacation, every time one of our children is gone from our family for some reason, every time my son gets on the school bus I wonder if that time will be the last time. I've got to stop. After our second son was born I went through a time of not even wanting to leave our house. The "what if's" got the best of me. It was short lived, thankfully but I realized I'm a fearful person, and fear gets me nowhere. Fear paralyzes me. It stops my life, it makes me incapable of enjoying the very life (lives) I'm afraid of losing.

I'm glad my dad doesn't see the future and I'm even more glad that he loves my husband. I'm glad my husband's first thought when he thinks he is headed to death's door is to call me and make sure I know he loves me. Mostly, I'm thankful for Peace. I am thankful for the Knowledge that death isn't the end. I am thankful for Hope.

I am thankful for one more chance to hold my husband's hand and to look into his eyes and to hear his voice.

I will let Thanks be more powerful than Fear.

Mushy gushy

I really don't like going so many days between blog posts. I feel so out of the loop and out of practice. This was a busy weekend for us though so I hope you can put up with my musings for just a moment ...
I'll begin with Cop's Wives Club on Saturday. We had five people, including myself, which was a small group but it was perfect. We all were able to be part of the same conversation and share some more intimate prayer requests than we would have been able to had everyone made it. I actually felt a little dumb as I started crying when talking about mine but since the group was small I only felt loved and encouraged. I am so thankful for our group of wives that meet once a month. I wish that every police wife were able to feel as encouraged and I am every month. I am so thankful for where Hottie works; he gets along with his entire crew, he has a great schedule, his pay is great, his benefits are great, his stress level is minimal. I know life isn't this way for many police officers and by default, for their wives either. My fears and worries are based on what happens at other departments and from what I hear other wives go through. They aren't based in my own reality. And yet I need my group. I need a place where I can be real and be loved and be encouraged and where I know everyone gets me. And then on top of it all we can all come together and pray. And I know the God who created all of us, the God who protects our husbands and our marriages, hears us and is with us. That is a comfort I pray all spouses of law enforcement can experience. I know that's kind of whimsical and flowery ... but it's true.
I  had to miss the first meeting of the other Police Wives Club I was invited to as my baby brother, M2, proposed to fabulous English Sarah on Saturday and so Sunday was spent with friends and family celebrating. On Saturday night the happy couple came by our house to show off the ring and chat. They were so cute. Remember when you were first engaged? I remember I couldn't stop staring at my ring, or Hottie's face, and the smile that made my cheeks hurt. I imagine we looked a little something like this ...

I mean, how cute is this? How cute are they? They do have a tough road ahead as fabulous English Sarah must return to fabulous England and my cute American brother must start applying for visas and getting all of that sorted out. However, I am very much looking forward to having her as part of my family. When they left our house OH grabbed me and said, "I felt like you were so far away! I just wanted to grab you the whole time they were here!!" And THAT made my heart pitter patter. A lot. That man still wants me and looks at me the same way he did when he proposed. How cool is that?!

So all my random musings from the missed days of blogging basically point to Jesus loves me and Officer Hottie loves me. I just think that makes for a winning combo.

When Daddy gets home...

A typical evening after Daddy gets home...

It starts off innocently enough with Fuzzy nuzzling in to make himself comfortable. Notice the runny nose? Officer Hottie doesn't. 

 Snuggles wants some time with Daddy as well. So Fuzzy scoots over to share.

No need to leave anyone out now. Lady Bug and Little J need attention too. Those poor middle children. Notice that Fuzzy is taking care of the runny nose.

And then things start to get crazy.

This never happens when Mom is the only adult at home. Mom does not like being jumped on. 

I repeat, Mom does not like being jumped on.

And still they smile. And still Hottie is smiling. That man of steel. He was sore an hour later.


Happy Valentine's Day. I hope your home is filled with as much love as ours!

Rainbows are awesome like that

Do you ever have one of those kinds of days? You know, those days where nothing really terrible happens but you just want to cry and you aren't really sure why? Today is one of those days for me. I really don't know why. It was embarrassing too because my brother's girlfriend arrived from England last night and I drove to my parent's house this morning to meet her and had to apologize..."I'm so sorry. I'm on the verge of tears." She, being the fabulous darling that she is, gave me a huge hug which set me that much closer to losing it. And as soon as my phone rang and I saw that it was Officer Hottie I did, in fact, lose it. A slobbery blubbery mess. And when he worriedly asked me what had happened my answer was, "I have no clue."  To which he reminded me that I am a girl and he loves me in spite of that. Or maybe that's why he loves me? Regardless, most of my day has been spent on the verge of tears for no apparent reason.

Sarah (fabulous English girlfriend) was talking about how she loves chocolate and  how Lindt Milk Chocolate with Milk is her favorite. I'd never heard of it but thought that it sure sounded interesting. (*Side note: My brother, we'll call him M2 since he is the second of the boy twins and their names start with M, bought Sarah a Costco bag of Mars mini candy bars. It was all I could do to keep my hands off) After the conversation I began thinking about how much I wanted chocolate. And pizza. And a burger. And wine. And mac 'n cheese...with bacon. (It is possible that perhaps the emotions could be triggered by something cyclical. I don't want to make any crazy assumptions or anything, but...) So after I left my folks I decided a trip to Target was in order where I found Lindt dark chocolate with chili AND Sarah's "best chocolate". I also grabbed a bar of Dove dark chocolate, in case the chili chocolate didn't quite hit the spot. It did. So yum. As soon as we left the parking lot I saw a huge giant rainbow. Two rainbows in fact. They were gorgeous. I started crying. And then I felt like God was telling me, "Hey, I love you. I'm thinking about you. You're an emotional mess and I still love you. See? See how much I love you?" And then I felt a lot better. The two squares of chili chocolate helped quite a bit too.

The rainbow ended over a local drug house ... or I assume it's a drug house. The people that live there always sit on the porch with their cans of Coors light and cigarettes and no shirts on. With a giant pit bull sitting next to them. I suppose I'm jumping to a conclusion ... the rainbow reminded me God loves everyone as much as He loves me. He's awesome like that.