Beautiful Life

I had something a little...revealing happen to me early (early!!!) this morning. Something similar has happened twice before. It is not something that I am proud to admit has gone through my brain. I makes me ashamed and very aware of what evil I could be capable. I believe that God gives me little glances into the roads (or choices) that separate my mother and I. Those pivotal points where she chose one road while I choose the other...the better.

When I get stress out, I mean so stressed that I can't fall asleep even though I am exhausted, I can't see past myself. Stress is a part of life, always there...that is why I appreciate these "episodes"...after they are over.

The first time it happened, I wasn't even a mother yet, well in a way. I had just found out I was pregnant and we had had an ultrasound done to make sure I wouldn't miscarry again. There he was, my baby boy. I didn't know he was a boy yet. I was at home alone and all the sudden I had a thought, "What if Evan loves this baby more than he loves me?". All the sudden I felt insecure about my place. It literally lasted 45 seconds because I was able to remind myself of the man I had married <3!!>

This brings me to the second "episode". Much worse than the first. It came in the early morning of Father's Day 2009. Maddie had yet to sleep through the night. She slept next to me in the pack n' play. I was again exhausted. I knew what the day held. Praising Evan as a father which would lead me to face my own pain of abandonment (see, can't see past myself!). I laid in bed and looked down at my sleeping daughter. (Here comes the bad part.) I thought to myself...I could ruin her life. I could poison her mind with all the bad things about her father. Why should she have a daddy and I never did? Why should she be a daddy's girl and I never was? I could be so mean. It isn't fair. Why should their lives be so easy? Why should they be given everything I would kill for? I imagined Maddie being better than me, being the person I want to be and I was jealous...and it went on like that. It still brings me shame. How could I? It showed me a glimpse of what I could be. It showed me how consumed with selfishness my mother really was. She was a single mother and that is not something I could ever be and survive!! But I have to wonder...did she choose that role? With my brother and I, yes she did! You chose to have sex and get pregnant. If you don't want children don't have sex...or protect yourself! She chose the man she would have these relationships with. Why do women chose men who treat them badly? Why chose a man you can't trust? Teenagers too, why have sex with a boy if you have even one doubt. I don't want to get into all that right now. Anyway, she chose single parenthood. When my stepfather left she had 4 kids. I don't think she chose this...she must have thought it was forever. They adopted two children together. But if that wasn't stressful enough...SHE ADOPTED TWO MORE!! There is debate as to why...I believe it was for the money. They all had special needs and she got paid 4 times per month according to the severity of their disabilities. Whenever CYS got into our business she would immediately begin to tells us we would all be living on the streets if they took the kids away! If I let anger and bitterness consume me I would be just like her. I kind of got off track here. That episode showed me who my mother really was. She made choices to benefit herself. She did not live out of love. She was motivated by anger and bitterness. She treated her children with anger. Ever throw or hit something in anger? She took all that out on us. I can remember coming home from school...that was like walking into a dark alley not knowing who was behind the shadows. We never knew if she was raging or not. I always kept my school bag on as long as I could. For some reason I thought if I kept it on she wouldn't hit me. That just left my face and hair exposed for hitting and pulling. It was the ambivalence that was so unbearable. We never knew her mood so we had to prepare for them all. I had to prepare for a battle every day coming home from school. The weekends were the worst...no break! I slept with my body wedged between the wall and the side of my mattress. I figured if she came in to get me in the night she wouldn't be able to find me in the dark. she would hit the mattress the first time and that would wake me up and I would be ready for the second blow. I fell asleep most nights with that thought...preparing myself for a surprise attack. I took me most of college to be able to sleep on top of my mattress. I still get afraid of being beaten in my bed whenever I hear a sound at night. Having a glimpse of my mother's mind was a scary...very scary thing. I felt tense and angry. Can you imagine what that does to your body? Imagine being on your death bed and looking back at those wasted years. All those precious moments you ruined. I look at what my mother has lost. She has lost me but she has lost my son and my daughter. They don't even know she exists. She is not a part of them...a complete stranger. Everyday that goes by she misses. What an incredible loss. She can never get it back because of her own choices.

The next morning...it was all gone. All those evil thoughts were forgotten and they had no bearing on how I treated my children or their father that day...weird.

Last night was just the same. We haven't had hot water for a week and a half, I can't clean anything, etc. All the past weeks business got to me and I lay in between wake and sleep. I basically had the same thoughts I had had on the eve of Father's Day...but even now the details escape me. The feelings and the thoughts go as fast as they come. I never face an actual decision to ruin my children. The actual choice never comes to face. This is why I believe these are just glimpses into how far I have come...what I would be like had I not begun this journey. How miserable I would be. How beautiful...just beautiful my life is now!

To spank or not to spank...

I feel the need to unload but it has been an unreal week! For more info read my family blog http://evashwarden.blogspot.com/ (Lol, so I don't have to repeat myself).



To add to that unimaginable situation, Eli decided that this week was a good time to rip off his diaper and poop on his bed! I kid you not...he really did that! And in the midst of not having any hot water. I was so mad at him!! A small victory came out of that though. Well it was a rather large victory in the shadow of stress that literally felt heavy on my body! When I had walked into his bedroom and saw the pile of poop...I was shocked. He has never done anything like that before. We are getting ready to potty train here in a few weeks so I know that this is very precious time in preparing him to let go of diapers. (He violently refuses underwear!) I had a dialog in my head when I was staring at that pile of poo! I was so angry at him. I knew I had to let him know that what he did was wrong. If I spanked him I knew I would hurt him...I was that angry! He knows better! I was afraid that if I spanked him he would be that much more opposed to potty training. I think I wanted to spank him to relieve my own stress...NOT a good reason or a good idea! That leads to abuse. I decided to make him take a cold bath! A quiet punishment...and I had no choice! Turns out he loved the cold bath...little twirp! I made him go take his nap early. Mommy needed to be alone. I was proud of myself. During that whole episode I was focused on my son and not on what he had done to me! Accidents happen and children disobey...life! I had a choice to make. I could have spanked him but I would have been remorseful afterward. I was so completely shocked that I had actually taken a "timeout" to weigh the options. To spank or not to spank...what would be the outcome of what I chose? I felt a huge break-away from my mother. She beat us out of anger and often for no reason. I have a very vivid memory or one of the times she beat me. It was night time and everyone must have been in bed. I don't remember what set her off. We were at the food of the stairway. Somehow she pinned me down with my body laying "up" the stairs. She punched me over and over and over. I was laying on my stomach and staring at the wall. I remember everything going...white. Did I pass out? I don't think so, but I was close. I thought she was killing me. I was in 6th or 7th grade and probably close to 12 years old so my concept of death was very immature. In my mind I was going to die. I remember letting go...just letting go, ready to die. I was a child coming to the reality that my mother had control of every breath I breathed and she had the power to kill me or let me live. A very defeating realization!! I don't think my mother ever took the time to control herself and put her child's emotions before her own. She couldn't see past herself. I have many opportunities to blame my mother for all the things she has done. She made choices and they were bad choices. I'd go as far as to say irreparable choices. I know now, being a mother and staring those choices in the face, that my mother was not equipped to "mother" us. She wasn't mothered as a child and therefore cannot know how to do it. I was not "mothered" and I didn't know how to do it. The difference is that I CHOSE to seek out the knowledge. I chose love...I chose to forget the fear of discovering what "ailed me" and dove into the cesspool of my heart and my actions. When I found out I was having a boy I panicked. I had already been in counseling for 2 years. I knew I had a long road ahead of me. I knew I was starting from scratch when it came to taking care of another human being...being aware of their needs before my own. I don't mean the diapers or feedings. I mean the heart. I had no idea how to care for the emotions of another person. Sculpting a character! I mean, no parent is 100% prepared! I just felt like a had nothing..I was empty when it came to "mother knowledge". Anyone who knows me will tell you that I HATE being caught unprepared. I get interest in a new topic and I research it to death! I had a deep desire to know how boys "worked". I mean the emotional side. What really makes us different? How could I cater to a boy if I had no idea how we were different. I read every book I could! I wanted the best for my kids. I never felt like I was what was best for them but I had to try. I couldn't make the same mistakes! I chose love. I researched, I worried, I asked questions,...I tore myself apart to be ready for my baby...my sweet baby Eli! I chose love. What a gift I got in return...unmeasurable. I watch his life unfold in front of me. I fell in love...I mean IN LOVE when I heard his first cry of life. I have loved him long before he took his first breath...but, love at first sight takes your heart forever! My gift was that love. I tore away all those chains (well there were still some left...but you know what I mean!) and I was able to experience love. I mean the kind of love where you offer up your heart...it is out in the open, exposed, vulnerable. Why else would so many mothers obsess and worry about SIDS, germs, and diseases...they are in love with their kids! Any harm done to them leaves a small crack in that mother's heart. I held all my heart when I held my son.

I never knew how big my heart could get...until my Maddie came. I look at her...that light in her eyes. She sparkles and there is my heart. What joy I have! I often remind myself that if I were to die today...I have lived a whole life. I have "done" all I could have wanted. What a legacy I leave behind. A legacy of love and sacrifice...I reaped the most from it too...

The "D" word!

It has come to my attention that I need to get back to a healthy body weight. Since my pregnancy with Eli I have gained a little more than 40 lbs.!!! YIKES!! I am not interested in looking like a skeleton! I miss the energy I had 40 lbs. ago! I was talking with my husband the other night telling him how sluggish I felt! He said that maybe "WE" needed to go on a diet! I hate that word. It makes me feel...kind of tight and nervous inside. Whenever I have that sort of reaction to something I know there is some deep routed reason...usually having to do with the past.

I remember my mother struggling with her weight. She tried it all...the pills, the slim fast, the exercise tapes. She even tried this 3 day diet where you follow this strict 3 meal a day menu and you are supposed to lose 10 pounds by the end! I think her mistake came when she had me do these things with her! Whatever her reasoning, it is not wise to have your teenage daughter stressing over the scale. We did not have an open relationship and I had already developed an eating disorder. When my step father left her she would spend whole weekends and most other evenings locked in her room (where she stashed food). My 2 brothers and sister and I were left top fend for ourselves. We were not allowed to go into the fridge or the cupboards without permission. One Saturday I finally got up the nerve to go up to her bedroom door and ask her what we should eat. She yelled back at me, "I don't give a s**t what you eat! All you think about if feeding your face!". Not only did she give a definite answer as to what we were allowed to eat or if we were allowed to eat at all...wow, all I can remember is feeling like she has punched me in the gut. Something went out of me right then. I was 12 years old, closer to 13...right at the beginning of puberty and the self consciousness that proceeds and my mother tells me that all I can think about is feeding my face. What do you think of when you hear that sentence. I picture a human, pig-like think with a greasy face eating and eating and eating. In fact that is the sort of image I saw myself whenever I ate...so I just didn't eat. Unless she was there watching me...I didn't eat. This went on for years. I was not a fat child at all. In fact I have shown a picture from my junior prom to my husband and he curls up his nose and says you look sick! I remind him that my date was a huge football player that literally towered over me, but he still can't stand to see me like that. I would go through these spurts when I would be fine and I would eat when I should but when a stressful event came along...I stopped eating. Starving myself made me feel strong, like a fighter. I couldn't stand up for myself so anorexia was my sword and shield. I struggled with this up until I found out I was pregnant with my son.

When my mother was having me do the 3 day diet with her I remember laughing to myself while thinking that I ate more during those three days that I ever did on my own. We found out that I was allergic to beets during that diet too. I have to confess that on a few occasions I would eat beets just to throw up. I even made myself some salt water once in order to make myself throw up...I couldn't swallow it though, nasty. I stuck with using the handle of my toothbrush to force myself to throw up if I felt I had eaten too much. In high school, I had a boyfriend whom I thought I loved. When we started having problems...my eating disorders were in full force. I even found my mother's diet pills and would have one or two of those for lunch everyday at school. Boyfriend problems (in the perspective of a teenager) coupled with my terror at home weighed heavy on me. So, so, so very heavy. It was in high school that I started mutilating my body for some kind of release. I can remember one night I took a steak knife and cut across my knuckle. I look down at the scar now and I can still remember seeing the blood and feeling exhilarated and like I had just won a battle. I never remember feeling any pain when I cut myself. I always thought it meant that I was strong...stronger than most. I know now I had lost any sense of pain. I think back to the night my mother told me I was only interested in stuffing my face...and when I felt I had lost something...was it then that I lost a sense of pain. Did I lose my sense of pain because of the danger of expressing emotions? Those things get so jumbled in my head now.

Here I am, 29 years old and a mother. I always feel like I am recovering from something. My life is uneasy sometimes because the past is so...broken. I know that I have done some terrible things to my body. I never cared about my own body until I found out I was sharing it with someone else. I had to push my body until I could push no more. For me, it was easy to release all that "anger" when I felt my boy kick me for the first time. The love I felt was enough to endure stretch marks and weight gain. It wasn't always fun but it was worth it! Now that I had my daughter I am aware of how my treatment of my body will be mirrored by her. She will never hear the "D" word from me. I guess I think of weight for children like I think of Maddie in a tutu. Let her be...let her enjoy herself and be carefree. Keep her out of danger but she shouldn't have to worry about adult things until she is an adult. I am a strong believer that my kids will get their habits from watching my husband and I! If we put into practice healthy eating habits our children will know nothing else. If I am healthy I will feel healthy and I will feel confident...and so will my baby girl. Feeling self conscious is inevitable for girls, I know! But how can my daughter believe me when I tell her she is beautiful if I can't believe that about myself? I don't think I am beautiful because I know what goes on inside of me...in my heart and it is not always a very "warm" place. I am overwhelmed thinking of how much "cleaning" I have to do in myself before the day comes when Maddie needs her first "You are Beautiful"!!! Will I ever be what she deserves? Will I ever be able to teach her what Beauty is?

A little...,no a lot, ticked!

I occasionally google myself of people I know. We all do it so I feel no shame. Anyway, one person whom I google is my father. Let me give a little background. My parents dated for 7 years, apparently broke up 1 month before I was born, and my father has only laid eyes on me once when I was 10 days old. Never have I seen his his face, even in a picture. The reasons why are enough for a whole other post so I will leave that for another day. I have tried so many times to find him and contact him. Letters, phone calls, etc. He never responded...my father-in-law has even tried to contact him!!! Nothing....just silence. he could be my next door neighbor and I wouldn't even know it! Well, I know his name and that brings me back to my reason for being angry and, well, even hurt! I googled him today and I found out he is probably married... It hurts me that he can put effort into falling in love, or whatever, with a stranger but he can't put anything into me...I get nothing, nothing at all. I realized I had pictured him all these years or at least recently as emotionally handicap or something equivalent to broken hearted over me...how self centered, I know. I feel ridiculous. I just couldn't see how a man could make his choices and not be sorry for them. My life was railroaded because he left...why is his life not railroaded too. Why can't he choose to come back? Why can't he make it right? You know, I feel like those stork stories must be true. I had to have just been dropped from the sky one day...I don't feel like I have a father. I never have... It reminds me of a toy that is missing a piece...incomplete and nonfunctional. You can still use parts of it but the overall concept is...missing because of that one crucial part. Put me in the Good Will pile...I am a reject! I kind of feel like I have been cheated on...like I want to hurt all women with the name "Sandra".

A lesson from my boy!

My son is known to our family and friends as a pretty rowdy little boy. To put it simply, my Eli loves life! he loves being alive and is the epitome of "childlike" when he approaches something new. He runs in without hesitation. My husband and I are generally accommodating...unless he can find a way to hurt himself or he is hurting someone else, we let him "run". I had trouble with this at first. Letting him climb on things and explore at certain heights...scared me to death! All I could think about was the bad things that could happen. It is a maternal thing for sure. I was never more thankful for my husband when he continually told me that "all boys do it". In a way, I might be cutting into his personality if I keep him from having fun and discovering! Isn't that what we regret most as adults...our being hesitant and holding back in fear...fear that isn't always founded? "Live and Learn"...learn from mistakes. I'd rather him try and fail than never try at all. He does that with all things from food to playing!

We recently took a vacation to Myrtle Beach. It would be Eli's first time seeing the ocean. I knew my brave son would have no trouble enjoying himself in the water. The first day we were there we took the kids down to the beach. Maddie was a little scared, probably of the noise. I knew then she would be so much more...calm than her brother. Eli literally ran ahead of us into the ocean water. Never in his life had he seen or heard the ocean. At first sight he ran, unhindered, into the ocean. It made my heart ache a little. I watched him dance and squeal as the waves came at him. I watched my son...part of me having the time of his life. Unaware of people watching him and laughing. He was totally living in the moment! I wondered if I was ever allowed to just be a kid. Did my mother ever take joy and rest in watching me dance in the waves? Was I ever that carefree? Probably not. I cannot imagine me ever thinking only of myself to enjoy myself! My son is a child and I know that by name they act as such...but I think there is a lesson there. If you were to line up my life and Eli's life up side-by-side...what would you see? I picture Eli's life glowing somehow...overflowing with experiences and laughs. My life...or my childhood would be dark and even empty. I imagine one would hear an echo. I can picture a few memories hoarded in the corner...yet even those are dark. I was to afraid to share my loves...what excited me. I was afraid to share what I wanted because it would be a tool my mother could use against me, something she could hurt me with. In turn I never learned who I was, I never knew what I liked or disliked. I was enmeshed with my mother. A cruel example of a mother. I have this picture of my mother picking me up and breaking me into pieces and shoving those pieces into her pocket. Like she deliberately kept me separated from myself. In pieces I could never think for myself or grow up. I had to do what she wanted to get any piece of myself. She was lord and master...she was queen and all like revolved around her.

Even on vacation, I had a terrible time trying to enjoy myself without feeling guilty. I felt guilty that my life was good and that hers was bad...almost to the point of shame. I wished that things would have been different. I didn't wish for the woman my mother is now but who she might have been...for whom I might have been.

Eight years together <3

Evan and I have been married eight years today. I think everyone says that if you had told them on the day of their wedding where they would be in x amount of years they would never believe you. We are no different. I think that my disbelief would have been a little different. My wedding day was not the joyous occasion it should have been. My mother did not want us to get married. There is debate about her motives but in the end, I spent the day trying to prevent her outbursts instead of enjoying my new husband and "the best day of my life". I wish someone could have told me in eight years I would be happy, secure, and (best of all) a mother. Evan and I have been through our share of heartaches, fights, and trials. We have had it rough at times but I think that makes us luckier than some others. I have always thought if things come easy to you you can never learn to appreciate it. I have never wanted the script of my life written out and predictable. Evan and I have had to love each other when the other was easily unlovable...yet we are still here together. When you fight for something like we have...you fight to keep it no matter what! I think I found one of the greatest men on earth for my husband. I secretly believe that if there were like 5,000 clones of my husband (personality included) that the world would be a place of love and peace! I can only pray that Eli becomes a man like his father. My Maddie will be the epitome of a "daddy's little girl". My babies will never know a world without someone who loves them. What a relief!!!

Content

(Another post from our family blog)

I feel like I have been through a transition in the last few months. I have let go of someone very precious and put my eyes onto opening up to other people who I can sympathize with, people of similar background. It has been so freeing. I feel lighter almost. I know that 99% of women are obsessed with the scale...if not now, you were at one point, or you are in denial. I think I am just happy the numbers aren't going up! I spent years of my youth violently obsessed with my weight and my body. Amazingly I was a thin child and teenager...weird. It was other circumstances in my life that could not allow me to look at my body in truth...plus I was an adolescent!! I often have bouts of that same obsession and run the risk of falling into old habits. I finally realized that my body, the way it is now, has served a beautiful purpose. It has been stretched and cut in order to grow, nurture, and welcome my two babies into this world. God certainly gives us the miracle of pregnancy and real human beings in the end...but he gave women the GIFT of being the ones to grow these little ones. If not for my body my children would not exist. I am here now, stretched and scared but with something beautiful to show for it. They are part of me emotionally and certainly physically. That must be why my husband still chases me around the room...he can see that beauty I had forgotten about! I am more beautiful than my body would suggest.

My family

(I posted this on our family blog a few weeks ago..thought it had more relevance here!)

Most people know that I love taking pictures...I love having pictures of people that I love, no matter who takes them. To me, a picture captures my emotions. It speaks emotions and feelings that I can't always vioce with words. Taking pictures is a way for me to love. That must be why my favorite things to photograph are my children. We recently had some family pictures taken. I am no pro and I thought it might be time for mommy to be in some pictures with the ones she loves the most! A sweet, talented lady in our church took them for us. She had no idea how much it meant for me to have these done. Eli was a pill, as usual. He wouldn't be my Eli if he wasn't. He was himself, not hiding his distain for having to sit still and produce a smile. What an unbreakable, free spirit. A truly beautiful thing.
It was the pictures of my Maddie that touch a deep, deep place in my heart. I just happened upon a little pink tutu when out shopping one day. The ladies who have sat and listened to me cry and scream out for the losses of my childhood don't need me to explain what a little pink tutu really means to me. My baby is free... She is free from any chance of the pain I have gone through. She is my princess...and she is daddy's princess. Every twirl, every beaded necklace, every sparkly bracelet is freedom...for me too. Now it isn't the "decorations" that I give her. It is the chance to be a little girl. It is the childhood free from worry...free from adult things. It is safety, a mommy to run to...a daddy to dance with her. She can be girly if she wants or she can roll in the mud...doesn't matter to me, as long as she is carefree! As long as she learns to love and treat others in love. She passes love onto the next generation, and they pass it on to the next. I can see God's eyes fill with a little sorrow and a little happiness. This is what he wanted for me...but his Madeline has it all! If my unhappy childhood is what it took for my children to have a happy one...I'd relive it a thousand times...and I have.
Ev, what a lucky couple we are...

For my daughter...my love <3

I have been told that I have a gift for writing. I have never really embraced this gift probably because I have always had it and never realized that others might not possess the same ability to feel something in their heart and be able to write it out into words. I have always wished to be able to speak the way I write. I wish that I could speak and bring people to tears with how I express my love for them...alas, that doesn't happen. I think being able to write might be more fun. Writing something down lasts a lot longer! I do not, however, posses a grammatical ability. I write how I think...and like most people, I don't think in terms of "grammar". Frankly, grammar annoys me!

I have been on a "journey to healing" for about 5 years now. It has been the longest, most frustratingly painful...and most beautiful thing I have ever done. A cliche, I know, but I have always found that there has to be some truth in cliches for them to become cliches, no? I can remember reading and listening to other women as the were sorting through the trash heaps of their own past and finding how similar their experiences were to mine. In fact, that "familiarity" in itself was healing. If the woman sitting across from me was saying that her mother spitting at her was abusive...then when my mother did that to me...it had to be abusive to. In fact I had never put the term "abuse" to my childhood until I had something to compare it to. I think that is why I write this blog. I enjoy writing and I enjoy helping other people sort out their "issues" when they hear or see me write out my thoughts. I know how freeing that can be! I begin this blog with the hope of guiding someone into a clearer understanding of their jumbled thoughts.

I also do this for a very special person. I have two children, a little boy (Eli) and a more recent addition, a daughter (Madeline). I certainly love my children equally, there is no doubt. In my own life and my continued journey, I have found that raising my daughter forces me to face my own losses and my own pains in the face. It was different with my son. He was always directed to the dirt and the dinosaurs, as most little boys are. My daughter is so beautifully different. She is still under a year...but she is so sweet and...ah, just so different. I named this blog after her...in a way. In July, we had our first family pictures taken since Maddie was born. I had happened upon a little pink tutu. I remember seeing it and feeling as if a wave had just hit me in the face. I had a rush of pain and joy and excitement all at the same time. I wake up everyday and have to mentally prepare myself to be a good mother. To do things differently than they were done to me. I always look for opportunities that I can do for or give my children that I was not given...things that make up a carefree childhood. Sometimes I wonder if a little girls happiness isn't wrapped up in a tutu! Isn't a frilly pink tutu the expression of carefree, happy, princess, daddy's girl, beauty, and contentment? Well, maybe a tutu with some mud and grass stains, lol! I held that tutu to my face and I stared at it for a little while. I tried to imagine a (much) younger me twirling around in it...and I could not hold the image in my mind. No one ever put me in a tutu...no one EVER let me live inside the "expressions" of a tutu!! Ashley (me) inside a tutu doesn't make sense and feels absurd.

My Madeline in a tutu makes all the sense in the world. My baby girl will be able to rest in my arms and I hope she "wears" her tutu until the day she rushes into the arms of her Father in Heaven! It is my deepest prayer and wish to give both my children the foundation to be loving, whole human beings. That foundation is not built on toys or material things...it is built by hugs and kisses and "I love you's"...and even in "No's". I fail so much...more than I ever want to admit. In all those failures I never choose not to face the past...not to face the pain. I face those things for my children. I face those things in the desperate hope that someday I will feel like a whole person. I am desperate to react the right way first instead of chastising myself for always over reacting! Love leads me on though...I love my children. I love my husband. I often feel like he has been jipped though. I use to think I stole him before the better woman came along. He puts up with a lot but never lets me know as much!