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If You Don’t Kiss Me Now…I Think I’m Going to Throw Up! 💋

 

If you don’t kiss me now, I think I’m going to throw up.  These words were spoken about a minute after I met Brian for the first time.  I know what you’re thinking…what on earth?  Let me start from the beginning…

I had just gotten divorced in December, and it was March.  I was feeling sad for my children, but finally free.  I was making my own decisions, had more money in the bank than I’d had in the last 24 years because my ex husband wasn’t taking it all, and I was making my own decisions.  The last thing I needed was another man in my life.  During lunch one day, my friend and coworker, Susie, said I should meet the nicest man she and her husband had ever met.  He was divorced, and had four children.  Four children!!!  I had four children.  Was she crazy?  I must have been the crazy one, because we looked up his Facebook picture, and I said ok.  It took everything in me to “Friend” him because I had only had two boyfriends in my lifetime.  By friending him, I might actually like him and then have to go on a date with him.  I didn’t know how to date!  I had married my junior high boyfriend.  I had no idea what we would talk about until I noticed my younger cousin’s picture in HIS Facebook high school reunion pictures.  As I looked at more of his pictures, I noticed that he had grown up in Worland, and had gone to high school with her.  Wait a minute…that meant he was younger than me.  I had always envisioned myself with someone older.  After doing the math, I realized he was 2.7 years younger than me.  UGH!

After Brian “friended” me back, we started to text one another which led to talking on the phone.  I loved his voice and sense of humor.  He made me feel at ease.  We still hadn’t met one another and so we decided to go for a drive.  I would meet him at a designated location, and then we would get in his truck and go for a drive.  I was SO nervous!  What if he didn’t like me?  What if I didn’t like him?

I got in my car, drove to our designated spot, and waited.  He pulled up, I got out of my car, got into his truck and said, “Am I what you pictured?”  He grinned at me and said, “You look great.”  As we started to drive, I looked at him and said without thinking, “You’d better kiss me before I throw up.”  WHAT had just come out of my mouth???  He looked at me with the biggest grin and said, “Ok,” and gave me the best kiss I’d EVER had!  All I could say was “I liked that.  Can we do that again?”  WHAT was wrong with me????  Again he said, “You bet,” and gave me an even better kiss than before!  Right then and there, I knew this man was special.  He didn’t make fun of me or take advantage of me.  He treated my innocence and vulnerability with tenderness.  I had only kissed two other boys in my life.  This man kissed me like I had never been kissed.

This man treated me like I had NEVER been treated.  Only six weeks later, I was told that a lump had been found in my breast, and I needed to have a biopsy.  My first thought was to tell Brian that we should stop seeing one another because he had already lost his first wife, and didn’t need a girlfriend who might possibly be sick.  He lovingly told me, “I’m not going any where.”  Not only did he not go anywhere, but held my hand during the ultrasound, and took me to the hospital for my biopsy.

A week later, after sitting in a urologist’s office being told my son had cancer, I said the same thing I had said to him only a few weeks earlier…”we should probably break up because I’m going to be focusing on my son,” and he again replied, “I’m not going anywhere.”  My ex husband went golfing during my son’s surgery.  Brian talked to the doctors, sat with me and my son before the surgery, stayed with me during the surgery, and then took my son and me home from the hospital.  He didn’t go anywhere.  He stayed by my side, and my son’s side through the whole thing.  He was there during the chemo, went with us on my son’s Make a Wish trip, and made sure we always had everything we needed.  When my son needed a car, he bought him a car.  When my daughter needed a job to support her children, he gave her one,  He took care of my children and loved them as his own.  When my youngest asked him to adopt him, he said, “Yes,” because he already loved him as his own.

More than five years have passed, and during that time, Brian hasn’t gone anywhere.  He is always by my side…during the happy times, during the sad times, always there.  I will always be grateful to my crazy friend, Susie for thinking Brian and I would be great together.  More importantly, I am thankful that God had a plan for me, Brian, and our family.

Today, when I see my husband walk into a room, all I can think about is kissing his face, and I don’t even feel like throwing up anymore.

Brian and Heather

 

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Granny’s Little Farm Kitchen 🐄

 

The second I saw it, I knew it belonged in my home.  My daughter had scoured garage sales and bought many wonderful pieces for a play kitchen for me, knowing that I wanted to one day have a play kitchen.  The cupboard was green with red knobs.  That would have to change.  My son, Garrett, carried it to my car.  It was mine.  Now to paint it.  No wondering what color it would be…white!

I had to add burners and a little sink.  I found two wooden disks at Hobby Lobby and a small pan at Salvation Army.  No faucet found, so maybe later.  I 🖤🖤🖤 the final product!

I’m pretty sure my little people will enjoy their farm kitchen.

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Take that Picture! 📷

I grew up in a happy home, feeling very secure and happy.  I never really lacked confidence.  I’m not sure why, but I just always felt I could do whatever I set my mind to.  If you asked me to be in a picture, after the age of 24, I would have quickly declined.  I had gained a lot of weight after the birth of my first two children, and I wasn’t happy with how I looked.  I was still confident, just hated the way I looked in ANY picture.

Many years later, after the birth of my four children, I went with a friend to a scrapbooking event.  I wasn’t a big scrapbooker, but enjoyed it when I could find the time to do it.  We arrived, found an empty table, set out our supplies and pictures, and began scrapbooking.  When one is scrapbooking, you must take breaks.  Get a drink, stretch your legs, give yourself time to think about the next page you want to create.  As I was doing this, I met a few women who had been scrapbooking a while, and had some amazing family pictures spread out across their tables ready to be displayed on pages full of memories.  Their families would enjoy looking through these books for many years to come.  Trips, holidays, simple daily activities, funny moments, etc. existed in these photos.

As I was scrapbooking pictures from a trip my family had taken, I noticed I wasn’t in most of the pictures.  I justified the fact the most of them were of my four children, and they were the ones I wanted pictures of.  No big deal…right?

Months later, my friend shared with me that one of the women who had been scrapbooking that night, had passed away in an accident.  She mentioned that her children were lucky to have the scrapbooks she had made, and that months before she had passed away, she noticed that she too hadn’t been in many of her family pictures due to not liking how she looked either.  She decided that her children didn’t care how she looked, they loved her.  She needed to be in pictures for her children’s sake.  So from that day on, she was in pictures.  A lot of them.  After she passed away, her children had those photos to cherish.  They weren’t looking at them thinking how unattractive their mother had looked, or how if only she had lost weight.  They were thinking about the memories in those photos.  The feelings they felt when they were with their mother.

After hearing about this woman and her story, I started to be in photos with my children.  I started to not feel uncomfortable when a camera appeared.  I was serious in pictures, silly in pictures, happy in pictures, and I even smiled in pictures.  I didn’t delete pictures where I didn’t look a certain way.  I made memories for the people I love.

Take that picture.  Make memories.  A lot of them!

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Target and the wreath🌿

I 🖤❤️🖤 Target!  I seem to end up there a lot.  Recently, I ordered a 🐮 cow head for my wall.  I hung it up, but it didn’t look complete.  Today, I mentioned to my husband that it looked too plain and needed something.  I added one of my wreaths and it looked perfect…except that wreath was my front door wreath and I was NOT willing to move it🌿.  Sooooo…I had to drive to Target, buy a new wreath, and now the cow looks perfect!  M🖤🖤!  If you are interested, the entire experience has been documented, on video, and can be viewed on my Instagram account at theferaudfarm.

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I Don’t Live Here Anymore

I used to live in a white farmhouse, with a red door, on a quiet street.  My father designed it exactly the way I envisioned it in my head.  Farm kitchen, open concept, wood floors, a bedroom for each child, large fireplace in the great room, beautiful backyard, and a wonderful place for my children to be raised.  My father worked day and night to build my home.  My first husband was supposed to help whenever he wasn’t teaching, but would often show up late, or have other things he had to do.  I should have, but didn’t see or feel his resentment.  I probably should have seen the signs, but was so excited for my family, that I would make excuses for him.  I had been making excuses for him for many years.  Our marriage lasted 24 years, but around the 12th year, he started having affairs, and often telling me he only loved me 60% that day, or 80% another day.  Before that, he had stolen from me.  Money, my dignity, my trust…

On a Tuesday, many years later, I walked out to my driveway to find that my suburban had be “stolen”, only later to find out that my husband had stopped making payments and it had been repossessed.  That same week, on a Thursday, I came home from work to find that my husband had moved out of our home, without telling me or any of our children, where he was.  The next day, a Friday, I got the mail for the first time in many years, and read the “your house is in foreclosure” letter.  You see, my husband had always gotten home before me, would get the mail – go through it, and then I read what I thought was all of our mail.  I don’t live in the white house with the red door anymore.

White house

I live in a green house, on a quiet street, with a man who loves me 100% everyday and this blog is our story.  Sometimes, I will share stories from my past, and other days I will write about our “new” families journey.  I love to decorate, travel, read, but most of all I love, love, love to spend time with my people.  Thank you for sharing my journey!

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