Morning

Light breaks through our window like a burglar

Looking to steal you away and give you up to the day ahead

And I am always pleading with it

To let me keep you

Even if just for another few moments.

A Winter Reading List

I love books.

I love the way the characters always jump off the page, and take on a whole life form in my mind. I can see what they look like, hear how they talk, and even imagine what they would wear or how their face would look during certain parts of a story.

I love the way books feel in my purse, all solid and heavy, a story waiting to unravel once I have a stolen quiet moment, or am unexpectedly delayed at the bank.

Winter is my favorite time for reading. Cold weather, occasionally some rain, and lots of thick blankets for cuddling up in set the perfect mood for getting lost in a good story all afternoon.

Here is a list of some of the books I hope to get to this winter:

After reading "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close", I HAVE to read his other book.

If anyone would like to notify Santa of this book list, I would not complain at all.

Fights, Cheesecake and Terrible Waitresses

Nothing is perfect. 

No one is perfect.

As much as I should know this by now, I am still so guilty of forgetting.

Shit happens. Fights happen.

But why is there this part of me that can start a fight, or participate in a fight, or perpetuate a fight, but then turn around and be so sad that the fight happened, and so terrified that it will be the undoing of the whole relationship?

If fights scare me so much, why am I not always better at picking my battles?

Why does my sensitivity overtake my rationality, and I end up crying over something stupid, or not being able to let something go, or refusing to drop a matter and pick it up later when tempers are not flaring?

Why does it take so long for me to bounce back from a fight sometimes?

Hours.

A whole day.

Multiple days.

Why are apologies sometimes not enough? What exactly am I expecting from the other person?

Childishly, I am wishing that they can go back in time and undo what they've said or done. As much as I know it's not possible, sometimes I think it's what I'm waiting for, subconsciously or not.

I heard somewhere once, that sometimes forgiveness means letting go of any hope that the past could have been any different.

I get that.

Because when something really hurts me, I do that.

I sit around moping and sulking and wishing it would have never happened. But it did, and I need to learn to accept that person who hurt me wishes just as much that they hadn't, but they can't go back in time and change it, all they can do is apologize and move forward.

I know I am no saint. I have hurt people, especially those closest to me. I've done things to people that I'm sure they wish more than anything I could go back and undo. But I can't. And I know it would drive me crazy if nothing less than time travel could soothe them.

But still, I am guilty of expecting things of others that could not be expected of me.

All the spiritual growth in the world, will never change the fact that intimate relationships are like a mirror, exposing and reflecting all of our worst traits and habits and character flaws back at us. 

I am a flawed and imperfect person, and the more I love Bill, and the further we walk down our journey together, the more both of our weaknesses and issues are brought out into the light.

It would be easy to say that it's too much, not worth it, too hard, and turn back and part ways. But no matter who else we chose, any real relationship of love and substance would expose the same ugly scars, the same bleeding hearts.

At least with Bill I'm home. I am in the arms of someone safe, who loves me even at my worst, and who can forgive me for all of my petty, persistent, stubborn and sensitive nature.

We fight, I get loud, we both get mean, things get ugly, {especially when I cry} and in the end I get scared that it all means the end. 

But the next day, we're both still there, we're both still in love, and we're both still forgiving and accepting and learning what it takes to bring our worlds together.

I wish I could let go, forgive and bounce back faster than I do.

But just like falling is a lesson in getting back up, maybe fighting is a lesson in getting over it. Getting over yourself, and putting love before anything else.

Sometimes forgiveness means giving up hope that the past could have been any different.

Amen.

A Photo Shoot

Nothing like some quiet time, with just me and my boy.

I had my laptop out, so we decided on an impromptu photo shoot, after some delicious macaroni and cheese, of course.

I love that Jackson likes to have his picture taken, and even asks me to take it.

Anytime, my darling!

You Are

You are the daydreams that I get lost in on my drive to work.

The little silent movies of our memories, playing in my head

And my school-girl imaginings of what our life might be like tomorrow, next week, five years from now.

You are the ink that flows forward from my pen when I thought I had run out of words.

I can talk endlessly about you, darling,

And still never quite explain for you my love.

You are the fog that crawls up my window at night,

Chilling the glass and leaving tracks of sugary ice on the sill for me to find the next morning

Sparkling in the earliest light of the sun,

Giving me something to smile about as soon as I wake up.

You are the breath that fills me when I gasp in excitement,

Staring up at a star filled sky with wonder in the cold November air.

You are the beats in my heart that never skip,

And the part of my soul that always glows.

Here's Hoping

This is me, being very brave.

This is me, being as positive as possible.

This is me, asking the Universe, God, Buddha, the spirit of Santa, who/whatever, to please, please see it their hearts to grant me a wish.

I have applied and begun the interview process for a position with a company for whom I desperately want to work.

It's a well paying admin position for a financial firm in south Scottsdale.

The salary is exactly what I need to be able to support myself and my babies alone, including paying for their staggering daycare bill.

The hours are perfect, and the job is something I enjoy, and can absolutely do.

If any of you readers, whoever and wherever you might be, see it in your sweet hearts to say a prayer, send some positive vibes, happy thoughts, healing light, whatever you've got, my way in hopes of getting this job, it would be more than appreciated.

I have an office interview next Wednesday, and I've already done my phone interview today.

{which only caused a mild panic attack}

Here's to being patient, being positive, and accepting that once I've made all my moves and done all I can, it's out of my hands, and I just have to wait and see where the dice land.

Wish me luck.

photo from We Heart It

Family

Families are crazy.

We all know that.

Why do I get the feeling sometimes that my family is exceptionally crazy?

Like I am somehow related to a group of people who are more dysfunctional and fucked up than the average bunch of shitty family members that most people were blessed with?

Family has been on my mind a lot lately.

Mainly because it's now officially "the holiday season" and that means one thing: my dad is going to go batshit crazy, make everyone mad, and do a bunch of Scarlet O'Hara impressions until I get drunk and throw food at him, then he starts crying and handing out cans of vegetables to all the children, saying "Eat up little darlings!"

OK, maybe that's not exactly how holidays with him go, but it's pretty damn close. 

Does anyone remember Father's Day? 

I remember Father's Day.

I don't know what exactly holidays do to my father, that make him so certifiably insane, every Goddamn time, but it is truly remarkable how his insanity seems to increase, exponentially with each day of the year that is supposed to be a happy memory of family love and togetherness.

Take Thanksgiving, for example.

Every year, for a long time, my sister Erica hosted Thanksgiving. She was the mature, responsible one in the family, with a husband and a full set of silverware and all that. So every year, we would all head over there, and she would make an awesome meal, and I would avoid my dad by staying in the kitchen with Erica, and we could usually get through the whole day without fighting. But, since our family had a huge falling out over the last three years, primarily between me, my dad and my sisters, with my two sisters on one side of the divide, and me on the other, and my dad somewhere in the middle trying to stir up both sides, we no longer go to Erica's for any holidays. 

So there was a year where I went to a friend's house for Thanksgiving. Stress free and wonderful. And last year, where I felt bad for my dad not having any where to go, so I ended up cooking. 

No big deal.

This year, it is the first year that my dad is not staying with some friend, or in between housing arrangements, and he actually seemed to have his shit together enough to possibly pull off hosting a holiday, so he volunteered to do it.

I knew in the beginning that this was probably too much for him to take on, but I didn't want to shoot down his dreams, so I encouraged him to try it. I figured at the worst, we'd have some mediocre food, and I'd get bombed on cheap wine while my dad passed out plastic spoons for everyone to cut their turkey with.

I was wrong.

My dad has clearly cracked under the pressure of hosting a holiday, and after a huge, white trash, front yard screaming match over a text message I didn't understand properly, he has locked himself in his house, and cancelled Thanksgiving all together.

So, this year I have every intention of staying home with some rum and coke, a stack of movies, and a delicious pot roast and mashed potatoes. 

I will be thankful with my kids, and do my own thing, and not have to please anyone.

Plus I get to stay in my pajamas, and I don't have to share my french onion dip with anybody.

Winning.

Being Thankful

So, since Thanksgiving is this week, I wanted to take a moment to be thankful.

Sometimes I am guilty of getting so caught up in the day to day pettiness of life, that I forget what awesome blessings I have been lucky enough to receive.

Thank you, for my babies.

For my two beautiful children who have both changed me, and taught me so much, in such different ways.Who saved my life, and drove me crazy, and gave me something to keep going for.

A reason to be better.

Thank you, for good music that makes my drive to work bearable.

For songs that Bill and I sing in the car, songs that remind me of different phases of my life, and all the different places I've been.

For the lyrics that remind me of how far I've come, and how far I have left to go.

Thank you, for hotels in canyons in the middle of nowhere.

Places where stars come out like fireflies in Summer time, and there is nothing to do but get lost in a love so deep and sweet, you wish with all your might to never resurface.

Thank you, for Bill.

For the love that took me by surprise, and hit me like a train. For a man that is patient, and accepting, understanding and supportive, who knows me, sometimes better than I know myself. For a man that is thoughtful, and constant, and never gives up on me no matter how much I make him crazy. A man that has always, always been there.

For the moments that take my breath away, and the amazing feeling of loving someone with all my heart, and being loved just as much in return.

Thank you, for texts on the way to work that bring tears to my eyes because they are so heartfelt and touching.

Thank you, for friends, new and old.

The fairweather flyers that came and went as easily as storm clouds in the desert. They taught me about loyalty.

And the dedicated partners in crime, that are always around, even if they're not always in view, who pick me up and brush me off, who pour me drinks and hold my hand, and laugh at my jokes and dry all my tears. They taught me about love, and the ties that bond.

And for new friends, like Matt and Vanessa who make every day at my mundane job tolerable, by making me laugh, putting up with my wildly inappropriate jokes, and bringing me chocolate and Dr. Pepper when I've had a bad day.

Last but not least, thank you for family.

Some of them I was born with, some of them adopted me along the way, but each one of them means more to me than I can explain.

My dad, Tony, Lucia, my brother, Jen, Cheryl and my favorite cousins {who know who they are}.

Here is to all the things that give me a reason to smile, laugh, and sometimes cry a little.

The things in my life and in this world that remind me to feel, and to live, and to keep seeing all the joy and adventure, in the simplest most unexpected places.

Dear Santa....

So, since we run out of work pretty much every single day at my job, usually before we even go to lunch, I am left with nothing to do and full internet access, while I get paid.

Winning.

What this has resulted in, however, is me serious coveting like, everything on Etsy.

If I were rich, I would spend ridiculous amounts of money on shit from this site. 

While most girls drool over and crave stuff from Anthropology, or Crate and Barrel, or Pottery Barn, I am lusting over the handmade amazingness that is Etsy.

Dear Santa, if you still exist, and I wasn't too bad of a girl this year, can I please have a Very Etsy Christmas?

A handmade, CUSTOM FIT vintage Mad-Men style dress, by Heartmycloset, pretty please.

A completely gorgeous, handmade Alice in Wonderland necklace, by tinatarnoff.

A handmade, Alice in Wonderland vintage dictionary print, by therekindledpage. And if you're feeling nice, there a few other prints by therekindledpage that just totally melt my very soul:

{sorry about the prices at the top of the pictures...I can't make that go away without editing the picture, which I'm too lazy to do}

And last but not least, a Patron bottle lamp, by Creationsbytootie. Cuz who doesn't want their room to be lit up by liquor?! WHO?!

Love, 

Sarah

To My Surprise

Oh what a weekend.

If nothing in the past has proven that Bill is by far the best boyfriend imaginable, this weekend set out to prove that fact once and for all.

And it did. 

On Friday night, I got a text from Mr. Becker, asking what time I needed to be home Sunday, since we usually spend Saturday night together, and whatever part of Sunday we have, depending on when he has to pick up his kids.

I thought nothing of it, and replied "Around dinner time, or a little after."

He said he was going to plan a little surprise if he could, and instantly I was all a flutter with excitement.

See, Bill is great at surprises.

Big ones, small ones, it doesn't matter, he kicks ass at them.

So without having any idea what this could be, but assuming it was something small and sweet, I was still overcome with joy and anticipation.

He told me to dress warm, wear shoes I could walk outside in, and to bring peanut butter and a shovel, and my iPod.

I assumed the peanut butter and shovel was an attempt to throw me off any guessing trail I might be on, but it was Bill, so deep down I figured he could possibly be serious.

All day on Saturday, while I waited for him to pick me up, my surprise was all I could think about. 

What could be?!

Were we going somewhere?

What did he plan?!

My mind went crazy with all the possibilities, but in my wildest dreams, I never could have dreamed up this:

A last minute and totally surprise weekend get-away to the Enchantment Resort in Sedona.

Holy mother of God.

This hotel is beautiful, and Bill took so much thought and effort to plan out every single detail.

Our room had a fire place, which he specifically requested, we had the most amazing view of the red rock mountains, there were stars like you just simply wouldn't believe, and Bill even brought along a pink flashlight {the hotel grounds are super dark so you can see the night sky} and the nightshirt I wear at his house when I stay over.

What a guy.

It was a short trip, but I don't see how we could possibly have packed more laughter and memories into 24 hours than we did.

From the long and heartfelt talk we had on the drive up, to the endless jokes we made about our slightly creepy and entirely overzealous bellman, to wandering around the grounds looking at a sky so full of stars it literally stopped me in my tracks when I first noticed it, to holding each other in the crisp Fall air making wishes on shooting stars, to kissing on front of an awesome crackling fire, to the amazing view outside our balcony door in the morning as the sun rose over the red rock mountains, to the pure joy of waking up next to my man, hiking through Boynton Canyon, taking 150 pictures and only keeping 6, walking through a beautiful and romantic little shopping center in a light rain, where i met a bear-friend, and then a helicopter tour of the Indian ruins before heading back home, there is not one moment of this trip that wasn't absolutely perfect. 

The hotel

The view from our balcony as we had breakfast

Giggle fits.

*Melty Melty*

On the balcony after breakfast.

Sweaty and out of breath, hiking the Boynton Canyon trail.

Hims a naughty little bear.

Bill is literally going to kill me for posting this picture. It was the only one where you could see the fireplace though!

By this time I was very tired, and just enjoying leaning on my sweet guy.

I don't know how I got so lucky, or what I've done to deserve this man, that clearly loves me so much, but I am without a doubt the luckiest and most loved girl in the whole world.

And I wished, I wished, with all my might, on every star, shooting or not, that we could always be this happy, always be this in love, and always be so willing to find the joy and adventure in everything we did together.

In the name of Patrick McFeely, and the spirit of Santa.

Breathing

I b r e a t h e in 

When you breathe o u t

In an impractical attempt

To have part of your soul

In my lungs.

I can taste you on my lips, though.

And there is nothing impractical about that.

While We Were Apart

I think about the time that we spent apart
All the time.
I think about how it felt to be without you,
On days when I feel like all I want to do is complain and whine and be difficult.
I remember how I felt when I completely lost you.
The dark time, when we weren't even friends.
When your name wasn't one that I could even say out loud,
Without feeling the sore spot throb
Like being struck upon a bruise.
The time when everyone thought they knew what was best for me,
And no one understood why I was still waiting for you to take me back home.
I think about how it felt,
To be vanishing into a crowd of people who knew me,
And somehow didn't understand me at all.
Longing for home again.
But home
Was a feeling I'd buried in you.
I think about how far down other roads we had both traveled
Both simultaneously looking back at the point in our journey where we last stood together,
Wishing the other person would open their mouth,
And say what we were both thinking,
End all this pointless suffering.
I think about the little things
And how if each one of them hadn't happened
We may never have found our way back to each other.
I would still be looking out each window,
Every where I went
Wishing I was somewhere
Anywhere
With you.

Shadow Puppets

We laid in the dark 

As some nondescript light from somewhere on the street

Fell sideways through the window and lit up the wall behind us.

We laughed loudly,

The sound of it bubbling up like clouds that would float all around 

The otherwise silent house.

We made shadow puppets on the wall with our hands,

Even our feet.

We talked about staying in that bed

In that room 

Forever.

Everything was safe there.

Unnecessary

I wanted to be as light as a sheet of paper that you could write all your words on.

You could scratch at me with your pen and etch your love into me over and over.

You could fold me up and slip me in your pocket. 

Carry me around with you until me edges were frayed and my creases were shiny and gray

From reading me so many times.

I wanted to be worn by you. 

Like a child's favorite teddy bear with a missing eye, an ear that's been sewn on more than 10 times. 

Loved so intensely I became dirty, soft and broken in.

I wanted to be your favorite shirt.

Threadbare and falling apart.

Washed and worn until it's so thin it's more of an idea than a shirt.

I wanted to be the breath that inhabited your lungs, 

Even if for only a moment. 

I wanted to be that unnoticed and that necessary. 

An Ideal Life

One day, Mr. Redford.....one day....

When you were little, did you sit around and daydream with your friends about what your life would be like? 

Who you would marry, what kind of house you would have, what you wanted to do for a living?

Did you picture kids? How many? 

A little dog named Rover or a cat named Fluffy?

Were you a superhero, or a doctor, or a famous musician?

When I was little, I was going to marry Robert Redford and live by the beach in California, or somewhere green, like back east, where it rained a lot, there were seasons and everything was green.

I was either going to have two kids, or 6 kids. A small family or a huge one, there was no in between for me. I would be a writer, an actress, a midwife, a doctor, a scientist, an astronomer, a geologist and a marine biologist. In my mind, one lifetime was more than enough to do it all.

My life didn't turn out exactly like I'd planned. 

Fate rolled this way, and that way, and long story short, I never married Robert Redford. *sigh*

When I think now about what an ideal life would be like, I contradict myself a million times.

I want a simple life, that is completely extraordinary.

I want a normal, happy life, and to live life's most unbelievable adventure.

Are you following?

I want a life that makes sense.

One where I know who I am, and where I belong, and for the first time ever I have a firm grasp on where and what home is.

That's something I never had.

A place that felt like home.

Over the years I've grown to understand that you don't buy a house or rent a condo, because it's home.

You end up somewhere with people who become your family.

They become your home.

Your life becomes your home, because you're doing what you're meant to, you are where you belong.

I want to create a life, with people that I love dearly, people who I'm capable of giving my whole heart to. I want to wake up each day among the people and things and memories of a life we've all created together. A perfectly imperfect existence where it's loud sometimes, and mistakes happen sometimes, and memories are treasured all the time, and there are moments where love swells up so big in my chest that I feel like I'll be crushed beneath the weight of it.

I don't care anymore if we have a dog or what it's name is, or if we have a fluffy cat, or where we live or what we drive or anything of the sort.

In all my wildest dreams now, of an ideal life, the biggest and best fantasy I can come up with, is taking whatever this journey gives me, and laughing about it with the person who understands me the best in the world.

Life's most unbelievable adventure is experiencing every possible bit of magic and wonder, with the people that feel like home to you.

Keeping your eyes open wide enough to see how mysterious a child's imagination is when they're playing in their room where they think no one is watching, or how beautiful morning is when it comes in through the window and lights up your lover's face while they're still sleeping. Keeping your heart and your mind open enough that you can always be moved, touched, surprised, even hurt. 

There is so much to experience in this world, and one lifetime just isn't enough. I want to feel all of it.

In my ideal life, I find adventure in the smallest, simplest and most unexpected places. I find mystery and beauty and passion and joy tucked into corners and pockets and served on the plates I dish out at dinner time.

And at the end of the day, there is someone there to crawl into bed beside, and talk about my day with.

There is someone there who wants to wake up the next day and go exploring. Through our back yard, or another country, or wherever we end up on our journey.

There is someone there who loves me, and understands me, and surprises me each day with how much I am capable of loving them.

Life's most unbelievable adventure is knowing that you can go anywhere, or nowhere, do anything, or nothing, and no matter what you're always home.

You're where you belong. You're doing what you're meant to be doing.

And you're enjoying every single fucking minute of it.

Between the Lines

There are times when you say more with punctuation than with words. 

And I feel as hollow as the bones of a bird

Perched beside the potential of your voice

Wanting to soak up whatever you have to say, 

Until it is marrow

Muscle

Sinew.

Something more substantial than all the silence between periods and commas.

Questions left unanswered and minutes flowing through my fingers like water,

Where I don't know what you're telling me,

Or how I'm supposed to feel now.

About the Age Difference

Bill and I are 17 years apart. Whether that qualifies as a May/December romance, I'm not sure, but I like the term May/December romance, so I use it anyway because it sounds....romantic.

One of the things that I get asked about all the time, is our age difference.

For the people that know me well, like my family and close friends, our age difference came as no surprise to them. I've always been attracted to men older than me, and I've been older than I am emotionally for a long long time. But for people that don't know me as well, like coworkers and nosy strangers in bars and grocery store check out lines, our age difference always makes them go "Oh. Ok."

People are curious about it, I think for the most aprt because they've never experienced it. Most people tend to date and marry within their age group, give or take four or five years. So naturally, 17 years sounds like a lot.

Girls my age usually ask me about it with a wide eyed, excited, hushed voice type of curiosity, wanting to know "what it's like?!". A lot of them usually end up confessing that they're tired of dating immature jackholes, and are secretly wondering what it would be like to be with an older man.

So, I will take this opportunity to answer some of the most common questions I get about the age difference.

Q: How did your family react to the age difference?

A: My cousin Lindsay was the only one who really had a notable reaction, stating with surprise "Sarah! He was having SEX when you were BORN!". That's true. Actually, he was having sex 4 years before I was born. {Sorry for outing you there, Bill} and really, I couldn't care less. My dad was ok with it, but he never misses an opportunity to give me shit about something, so he likes to make jokes about Bill only dating me because he can't afford a motarized wheelchair, and needs me to push him around when he can't walk anymore. Ridiculous. Bill would never pass up a motarized scooter. Who doesn't want a Jazzy?!

Q: Why did you choose someone so much older than you?

A: This is the question I usually get from cocky 22 year old guys, who for whatever reason take it as an insult them that a 24 year old girl would rather be with a 41 year old man, than someone like them. A young hot stud, as they see themselves. Well, let me tell you Mr. Young Stud, Bill keeps up with me just fine, if not better than most 24 year olds, and one day, when YOU'RE 41, you'll understand why a girl like me would want to be with someone so much older. Bill is stable, he's mature, he knows enough and has seen enough to really understand what matters in the world, what's worth caring about and fighting for, and what really doesn't matter at all. And whether this has anything to do with our age difference or not, Bill gets me better than anyone else does. Our lives match up. We both have kids, we both care about, love and enjoy the same things. And we hate all the same things too, which is nice.

Q: What's the sex like?

A: I personally don't feel qualified to answer this question, because I haven't been with a slew of older men, cataloging each experience so I could make a pie chart and bar graph about the difference between a 24 year old and a 41 year old.

Q: Do you get looks in public, or does anyone ever say anything to you?

A: Well, aside from you, asking me this question right now, no, people do not approach us in public and ask about our age difference. And I don't notice people giving us looks ever. I think we usually look so happy when we're together, that most people just smile at us and go about their business.

Q: Is it a lot different than dating someone your age?

A: Yes and no. When Bill and I are together, the age difference never crosses my mind. I never sit around thinking about it, and I never have moments where I'm like OH MY GOD YOU'RE SO MUCH OLDER THAN ME. {Except when Bill uses slang terms incorrectly on purpose just to watch my eye twitch}. But it is different. I notice the difference more when I hang out with my friends my age, and we go out to bars or I am around their boyfriends. I am reminded how much more calm and laid back Bill is. How much of a gentleman he is, and how he isn't cocky or boastful. He doesn't strut around like a ridiculous peacock, trying to show everyone what a man he is. He knows he's a man. He doesn't have to say it over and over. And, he's not totally and completely self centered and over dramatic, the way I see most guys my own age being. Usually after a night out among guys in their 20's, I feel really grateful to be back in Bill's arms the next day, feeling totally secure and safe and cared for.

I do wonder sometimes what the age difference is like for Bill. Does it ever come up for him? Does he feel shy holding my hand in public, or feel like people are judging him? Quietly calling him a cradle robber in their minds? Does he ever wish I was older, or does he have moments where he's glad I'm younger? It would be interesting to hear him write about what our age difference is like from his point of view. Maybe I can talk him into another guest post....hint hint.

There are some things about our age difference that make me wish I had been born when he was. Like the fact that I missed out on 17 years of being with him. Maybe if we had been the same age, he wouldn't have met and married his psychotic ex-wife, and we would've been together longer. But, then he wouldn't have the awesome kids he has now, so it's all a catch-22.

I missed out on certain things with him. 17 years of his life, having babies together, and maybe even getting married. Most 40 something divorcees aren't exactly in love with the idea of getting married again. And there's still the irrational fear that I have sometimes, that even if we stay together for the rest of our lives, what if I'm widowed before I rightfully should be for a woman my age?

But at the end of the day, none of that matters. As soon as I see him, and fall into his arms it all fades away. We never had a baby together, but we at least both have children, awesome, healthy children that we get to watch grow up together. We missed 17 years of each other's lives, but we have the rest of our lives to make as many memories as possible. And even if I am widowed at an earlier age than I might be if I chose to be with someone the same age as me, it's not worth walking away from the love of my life.

I would rather have one more day with Bill, than give him up and have 60 more years with someone else.

You never know where love might find you. You never know when that love could be taken away due to death, or any number of other life circumstances. So when love presents itself at your door, don't pass up the chance at a true connection with another person because of something as stupid as how many years they've been on Earth. For the only true currency in this bankrupt world, is what's shared between two people who truly connect, understand, and love each other.

A Letter to My Daughter on Her 8th Birthday

Dear Lainie,

Today you are turning 8, and I have been holding back my tears since the realization became real for me...which was around the exact moment I laid eyes on you this morning.

Your long golden hair all tangled and falling halfway down your little back, your ruby red lips slightly puffy the way they always are when you wake up, and your big brown eyes shining as you ran into my room, standing in the doorway, poised to hear me say the same thing I always say to you, every year, as soon as you wake up on your birthday:

"Good morning Lainie! Today's your happy birthday!"

And as soon as you heard it, you laughed that deep throaty laugh that you do only when you're really really excited. The laugh that reminds me so much of my own.

Jack started whining about something, and I quickly reminded him it was your happy birthday. His whining stopped, and he turned on the spot to yell "Happy Birfday Way-knee!" I love the way he says your name. You smiled your sweet older sister smile, that you get when you're in a good mood and feel like humoring him, and said "Thanks Jack." You sounded so grown up it took my breath away.

I sat up last night looking at your pictures. Looking at how you've changed and grown over the years. From the sweet, chubby cheeked little baby that looked just like my baby pictures, wrapped up in blankets in my 16 year old arms, to the playful, even chubbier cheeked toddler wearing my high heels and running around saying words like "Chopisol" for popsicle and "Miss-a-bit-nose" for Mr. Big Nose, your favorite dinosaur, to the tall, stunningly beautiful little lady who started Kindergarten with all the hope and anticipation in the world.

We've been through so much.

You've grown so much.

You are turning into such a beautiful young lady.

One day, you'll break the heart of every boy you pass in the halls.

Right now, on this day, at this moment, you are halfway to 16. You're in between a newborn and a teenager. What a strange feeling.

I was 16 when I had you. I never imagined how much you would change my life for the better.

I thought the job ahead of me, how much I had to teach you was daunting. I never realized you would teach me as much as you have.

Patience.

Acceptance.

Forgiveness.

Self awareness.

Humor.

Devotion.

And the truest form of unconditional love that exists in this world.

There is nothing like the love that I feel for you, Tiny.

And there is nothing more overwhelming than the pride that surgest through me when I watch you everyday. Presenting your spelling tests, always scored 100%, quietly bent over a canvas painting the most amazing things with such patience, playing with your brother and coming up with the wildest games that I wonder what that little brain of yours is like.

You amaze me, little one.

With every breath you take, with every second of every day of every year that we spend together, you simply amaze me.

You fill me with a love and a joy that brings me to my knees when I imagine you growing up, and growing away.

But for right now, your little hand still fits inside mine, and you still call me Mommy, and run to my arms when I pick you up from school.

We won't be here forever.

You won't be 8 for always.

But I'm enjoying every second of our journey together.

And I will love you til the sea jumps over the mountains and the stars fall right out of the sky.

Happy Birthday, my love.



A Guide to Dating an Emotional Girl

Hello, my name is Sarah, and I am a highly emotional girl.

{this is where the rest of the support group says "hi" in their sad we're-in-a-support-group voice}

For the longest time, I actually denied this fact about myself.

I denied it not just to other people, but even for a long time, to myself. I thought {and acted like} it said something terrible about me. It made me weak, or inconvenient, or whatever bad adjective about a person you can think of. 

For a long time, I felt like being emotional meant I was like my father: batshit crazy.

That might sound silly to a lot of you, but when you grow up with someone who expresses every emotion he has in the unhealthiest ways possible, and always takes everything to the extreme, you realize one day that you don't know where the line is between healthy emotion, and unhealthy, so you just start considering it all bad, and act like none of it's there. Just to be safe. Just so you never become like that.

But, that's completely unrealistic. There's no way that I could live my whole life expressing no emotion, and even if I could, why the hell would I want to? One of the best feelings in the world is getting all lovey over my kids or Bill, crying at movies or laughing my ass off at stupid things.

And when you're completely overwhelmed, a good long cry is just the ticket sometimes to make you feel a little better.

Emotions are good.

But, like I said, I am highly emotional. 

I don't live life on the surfaces of emotion, maintaining a middle ground baseline where things are usually just OK. I live in the heights and the depths, and everything in between. I feel things deeply, and I usually express them openly. 

There are upsides and downsides to this.

One of the downsides being, I sometimes cry over silly things. I sometimes get upset about things and can't let them go right away.

I sometimes {brace yourself Bill} get upset over things that don't really matter, because I'm reacting off the initial emotion that the situation triggered, or I'm overflowing with emotion from other areas of my life and it all spills out in one place, on one person.

Needless to say, dating me isn't the easiest mission to accomplish.

So, for those of you out there who are dating a highly emotional girl, or are a highly emotional girl, or are my boyfriend in particular, here are some helpful hints to dealing with someone like me, on days when we're a little less awesome than usual, and a little more Lifetime movie-Meryl Streep impression.

1. It's highly recommended that you keep bits of chocolate with you at all times. {Note to Bill: I like dark chocolate} Toss these little treats out whenever frustration begins to build and spill over for no apparent reason. It won't fix anything per se, but it will help defuse a rapidly rising incident. 

2. Have a sense of humor. That doesn't mean laugh at your girlfriend while she's crying in the middle of Target. It means helping her see the humor in the fact that she's crying in Target. 

3. More than likely, if she's truly upset, all she really wants is for you to hold her and listen. Wipe her tears and tell her you understand and that you can see why what she's going through would be difficult. Don't give advice. Don't try to fix it or downplay what's happening in an attempt to help her see that it's "not so bad". This feels like you're invalidating her feelings. Even if you don't get it, this is real to her.

4. Remind her that you're on her side. And that you love her.

5. There are going to be days where she needs some extra love. If you give it to her, I guarantee she'll give it back to you when you need it.

6. Sometimes, tears will flow over silly things. Hunger, frustration over a million little things not going right, exhaustion, or just being overwhelmed. Small gestures in an attempt to lighten the load go a long way. 

For example: I used to have a friend who knew what I liked to eat and what I didn't. When I had a hunger emergency, she knew not to give me 20 options of places to eat. Instead she'd ask if there was anything I wouldn't eat, then just pick a place out of her remaining options. If I was exceptionally frustrated, she'd even suggest something to order for me like "How about a number 5, you like those" and I'd usually agree.

{note to Bill: bribery with food and coffee is usually highly effective}

7. Let her get it out. Don't interrupt. Don't take it personally if it's about you. She's venting, but at least she's talking. If you shut her down or cut her off or make her feel like she's said something wrong, she will shut down, turn inwards and lock you out. Not. Good. I really can't emphasize enough how important it is to just hold her, and listen. All of her emotions might come out in one big messy ball of incomprehensible, but at least she got it out, and now she can sort through it.

8. Be patient, and remind her to be patient with you too. I know it can sometimes feel like nothing you're doing is helping, but trust me, just being there helps. You don't need to fix this, you just need to be there, and be supportive and sweet.  Some well placed compliments or verbal affection, mixed with some quiet cuddling and some sincere empathy, are really all that's needed if she's willing to talk.

9. If she's not talking, and instead seems to be picking a fight, try to remember fighting isn't her goal. She needs to get something off her chest, she just can't find a good opening to do it.

Or she has nothing to get off her chest, and she's just grumpy and doesn't realize that you're taking her mood seriously. In that case, if lightening the mood doesn't help, tell her, without sounding defensive if possible {side eye: Bill} how what she's doing is making you feel. She's emotional, feelings are what she understands so speak her language.

10. And now for some helpful words and phrases: 

"What's really bothering you? Are you really mad that I ate the pickle off your plate, or is it something else?"

 "Of course Unicorns exist, and I totally ordered you one on Amazon today. Should be here in five to seven business days." 

 "I hear you, I know a lot of little things are bothering you right now. What's the biggest thing that's weighing on you?" 

"Do you want some ice cream?" 

"You look really pretty today. And you smell nice." 

"I never think about anyone else when I masturbate. Not even Jessica Alba."

 "I love you. I know you're stressed out and upset, but I'm here for you. Tell me what you need" {Bill is really good at this one, but I'm usually to proud and stubborn to tell him what I need. I'm working on that, but in the meantime, Bill, just keep asking.}

It's not always easy dating someone who's emotional or sensitive. Things will be more intense, sometimes for the better, sometimes for worse. But one upside to dating someone who's emotional is that they feel more deeply about you too.  There will be no shortage of passion. They will love you stronger, kiss you harder, and do anything to be there for you when you need them, because they understand better than anyone what it is to need someone. 

And even though she might cry when she's overwhelmed, or tired, or hungry, you will also see her eyes fill up with tears when you present yourself on bended knee to ask her to marry you, or when she holds the baby the two of you made together for the first time, or when she thinks about how much she loves you.

And she might be furious that you lied about something small, or that you forgot her birthday, or were insensitive at a time when she needed you to be warm and loving, but she will also fight like hell for your relationship, for your love, and she will defend you against the world, as fiercely as she defends herself when she's upset. 

At the end of the day, it's about acceptance, understanding, and above all, love. Genuine love, that knows happiness makes up in height what it lacks in length, love that is willing to put up with girls like us at our worst, in order to be with us at our best.

A Guest Post!

Today I bring to you, a guest post from none other, than Batman himself.

Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Bill Becker...

Today's post...brought to you by the letter T and the word "Trust"

 

Sarah asked me to submit a guest post this week. At first, I felt like I shouldn't....like it would somehow taint her blog which I've always seen as her pure, unadulterated thoughts and feelings. After a while, though, I realized that it was ok. In fact, it made me feel pretty special. This was different. It was Sarah reaching out and asking me to step inside, and even become a part of, one of the most private parts of her life. It sums up what has changed in our relationship.

 

    We spent the last couple years as friends

        ...and sometimes more than friends.

 

    We always tried to be there for each other

        ...and we usually were.

 

    We always tried to make each other laugh

        ...and we usually did.

 

But we never let each other in.

     Not really anyway. Not like we needed to.

 

We never trusted each other see, to know and to accept the deepest, most private parts of who we are. It's not suprising, I dont think very many people ever do. Most of us wear a mask around our friends, coworkers our family and even our lovers. We keep a piece of us hidden inside just for ourselves. Because of this, though, Sarah and I were never able to find the relationship we both wanted...the one that was "more than ordinary." So we parted ways. 

 

Something happened this time, though. Well, alot has happened. In fact, so much has happened in the last couple months that I think it would have completely shattered the trust in most relationships. For us, though, it was the opposite. It forced each of us to make a choice. We either had to go "all in" or we had to walk away for good. Neither of us knew which way things would go when this was all happening...but in the end we decided that we needed to break down the walls, bare our souls and trust each other. Forgive each other. Love each other like we never have loved before.

 

So are you wondering how things turned out?

 

Well...lets just say that every morning I wake up and smile. I know we are home now. Right where we belong.

{Editor's note: I would just like to say that I was in freaking tears when Bill sent this to me. The Bill I knew during the last two "complicated" years, never would've written anything like this for me. -Sarah}

What's Different

Credit where credit is due: the idea for this post comes from the amazing mind of Mr. Becker himself. Since I have been suffering from some mind numbing writer's block, I turned to my much appreciated and extremely important boyfriend for some ideas, and this is what I got. Enjoy.

Some of you might wonder, after reading Our Love Story, what's different about our relationship now that we're back together for the third time. 

Why are we suddenly so happy now, after being in such awkward limbo for over two years? 

{Maybe none of you wonder, but I'm telling you anyway}

The answer seemed, at first, difficult to put into words. We are so different now, it's sometimes hard for me to recognize the people we were to each other for so long. Compared to how we are toward to each other now, those people seem so distant, withholding, calculating even, planning out their every word, gesture and step in order to maintain an air of casualty.

We're nothing like that now.

There is a tenderness between us that simply never existed before. 

The way he touches me, looks into my eyes, and even kisses me, is all so much more tender and loving now.

For the first time since I've known Bill, there is romance in our relationship. And it is such a sweet and simple romance, that it brings tears to my eyes when I think about it. It looks just like us: nothing flashy or over the top, never cliche, but completely genuine, and exactly suited to who we are together.

And for the first time since we've known each other, I feel like I can honestly say that we are open with each other. It was a deal we had to make, a promise we had to swear on with our pinkies. We had to hand over our hearts into the care and keep of the other person. We had to throw our lots in together, and trust the other person to take care of the most delicate parts of ourselves.

Also, we couldn't keep communicating the way we were, both understating, withholding, and looking elsewhere for the things we needed because we were so afraid of rejection that we never felt comfortable asking each other. I can, and do, tell Bill everything. Even the hard things, or the uncomfortable things, because the words that are the hardest to say are the usually the most important ones. So even if my voice is shaking, I ask for what I need.

In the end, the biggest {and depending on how you look at it, only} difference, is love.

The sheer existence of love where it did not exist, or went unexpressed before, changes everything. It colors the way we interact and how we treat each other every single day.

We are not careless or casual with each other, we take care of each other. 

We are not blase, or ambivalent, we no longer work as hard as possible to maintain a laissez-faire. 

We speak, and we give, and we show each other every chance we get that the other person matters.

And I, for one, wake up every morning and make the conscious decision all over again, to give Bill my heart, and to honor the love that exists between us because I know I'm lucky to have it.

I never understood pure joy, I never understood pure happiness, at least when it came to love and intimacy with another person, until Bill and I decided to let each other in, even into the dark, delicate and vulnerable parts of ourselves, and love each other as much as we could.

There is so much different now, and there is still so much to look forward to.