Overheard: Whenever someone calls me ugly, I get super sad and hug them because I know life is really, really tough for the visually impaired.
Category: Family Life
Meet my family and follow along as we traverse the sometimes unfamiliar waters of ADHD, Epilepsy, and life as a ministry family.
Talk Dirty To Me: 22 Years and Dating…
Me: My oldest just left for college and it’s killing me. I don’t know what I’m going to do when my youngest leaves.
Her: Oh honey, you’ll do just fine. I’ll never forget the day my youngest moved out.
Me: What did you do?
Her: I came home from work, parked my car in the garage, took off my clothes, opened a beer and sat on the couch buck naked, because I could.
Me: What did your husband do?
Her: Grabbed himself a beer and helped me break in the couch.
BLUSH.
I sat there and stared at this women who is ten years my senior, in utter shock and frankly envious admiration.
I hear about marriages going south after the kids leave more than I do about getting to know each other again.
“According to data from the National Center for Health Statistics, the overall divorce rate declined by 1.4 percent between 1981 and 1991, the Arps said in their book, The Second Half of Marriage: Facing the Eight Challenges of the Empty-Nest Years. However, during those same years, the divorce rate grew 16% for couples married 30 years or more.” – citation Marriage Missions International
I’ll be honest you guys, I don’t want to be a statistic. I don’t have all of the answers. I may very well wake up single one day and if I do it won’t be without a fight. I believe some things are worth fighting for, marriage especially.
Our youngest has chosen to live at home and attend Jr College rather than move away so unless I want to pay for therapy on top of college tuition, breaking in the couch might not be an option just yet. I do, however, think it’s possible to learn how to date again.
I know all marriage seminars and books tell you to date while you still have kids. Seriously? Who has the time? Or the energy. My husband traveled almost constantly through out our marriage. He could have pursued music and chose to keep his corporate job instead. That was a huge sacrifice. He did so in order to provide a living and a home for us. I’m immensely grateful for that. While I regret greatly that we didn’t date like they tell you to in those marriage advice things, it is possible to re-learn how to connect. While we were raising kids, because he traveled, I made sure I took time out for myself when I could and I focused on exclusively female friendships.
I say exclusively and I mean it. No men. My reason for that was simple. Being home alone with children all day for days at a time can be lonely. So lonely in fact that the smelly homeless guy who smiles at me can start to look attractive. Every parenting book I ever read warned about that and they were right.
Can I be totally honest with you? I cannot begin to tell you the number of creepy guys who went out of their way to make sure I knew they were there for me if I needed them. Not nice guys, I’m talking the sidled up alongside me, give me a sideways hug so they could cop a feel rejects. Jeff used to like watching me untangle from these guys and run straight to him. Sorry if I seem blunt, but that happens to both men and women.
I will openly admit, refusing to allow men into my life while I was raising our kids might not have been the best tactic. I may have missed out on more than just learning how to set appropriate boundaries with them. (Something I do struggle with at 46.) and I may have missed out on some great growth opportunities so please don’t send me letters about how y’all had male and female friends and it never interfered with your marriage – if you did that’s great. I personally chose not to that’s all. For better or for worse, I can’t change that. The male friends I do have are friends we have together and they are great friends.
There you have it, two confessions, I don’t know how to be friends with men and I didn’t do a great job dating my husband while we were raising kids. We were busy and we were tired. We also knew that the day was coming when we’d wake up and think, “Who are you and what are you doing in my bed?” and so we started planning.
My plan was to sell our house in the suburbs, move to mid-town and go to concerts and such in River Parks like we did when we were dating in Chicago and I wanted to travel the world.
His plan was to buy a bigger boat and fish more.
We neither live in midtown nor own a big boat.
We needed to learn how to compromise.
Sometimes we do things he likes, like fishing or golf, and sometimes we do things I like such as concerts, or plays. One of the things I love best about our marriage is we make each other laugh and we put each other first.
Most of the time it works out. In June we saw Barry Manilow and he didn’t die and in July we saw James Taylor which was amazingly awesome. I’ve even started watching him play again on Saturday nights, something I gave up when the boys were in high school because I was just too busy. And he comes to watch me when I perform comedy. We support each others dreams.
Which brings me to a crucial point, developing myself as a woman so that I have something more substantial to lean upon than just his arm if you know what I mean is very important during this season of my life otherwise I run the risk of running away to find myself. Well that and boring him to tears. So I took up banjo, started riding a bike, and started comedy and acting. I’m becoming informed about politics, and music and world affairs. I became a Democrat which didn’t thrill him, but it does interest him. It’s a lot easier to date a man – or a woman for that matter – when you know who you are and can bring something to the table, otherwise the burden in on one person and nobody likes that.
Jeff and I will be celebrating 22 years of marriage this Saturday. Parts of it have been wonderful and parts of it have been hard. I come from a divorced family, full of fear and baggage as do a lot of people. We’ve had to work through our stuff together. I love hearing the compliments of how people perceive us, and yet I’m afraid we do at times give the wrong impression. Yes, we are happily married. Is it always happy? No. Sometimes it’s work. I need you to understand that – behind every happy marriage is a ton of work.
Don’t get me wrong, I adore this man however staying married is the hardest thing either of us have ever done in our lives. I don’t want to mislead anybody. In today’s age when people bail at the first sign of trouble we didn’t. We have a very real marriage. There are days where we drive each other to absolute distraction and there are days when we click on all six cylinders and we stick it out and we fight for each other. We think it’s worth it. While we do not have the money for a big celebration this month due to college bills, we’ll find something. And it will be fun.
So married readers: Do you date your spouse? Would you like to share your dating secrets with us?
The Melody of Life
“The banjo is such a happy instrument–you can’t play a sad song on the banjo – it always comes out so cheerful.” –Steve Martin
I can have a horrible week.
A heart breaking, nothing goes right, things break, family crisis, gut pulling kind of week.
A run away from home, lock myself in a cabin by the cove and play banjo for two days straight and question my sanity kind of week.
Then I walk into my banjo lesson and my instructor breaks down the songs, gets me laughing my butt off, reveals deeps secrets of the musical universe (Don’t force it. Don’t rush, you have all the time you need. Pay attention to the important things. Don’t forget to have fun.) and my soul is happy again because we’re playing a banjo and I can hear the melody.
A lot of us who do comedy for a living think we need a stage to help people feel better. That isn’t always the case. The day-to-day interactions we have with others can have a profound impact. He helped me remember that even with all its twangs, missed notes, thuds and buzzes, the melody of life can still be heard and that is a glorious thing.
Perfectionism is self hatred in disguise.
I would rather be naked than let you see me learn the banjo. That says a lot. I don’t do naked well. (Think Bob the tomato). Learning something new while people watch is apparently worse.
I call it being an introvert.
My husband calls it being a perfectionist.
Either way, I don’t like people seeing me or hearing me try something new until I master it.
The problem with that?
Life isn’t meant to be lived in a vacuum.
Truth is, I’ll let my husband see me naked, but I won’t let him sit out on the porch while I practice my banjo. For some reason I feel more vulnerable playing the banjo than I do in the nude.
Refusing to let my husband (he’s a professional musician on weekends) hear me play robs him of the joy of music.
I knew my anxiety level had reached an all time high when not only did I not want my husband to hear me play the banjo, I couldn’t play for my teacher either.
When we first started out with lessons — in May, I’d get so nervous that I made my instructor nervous.
That’s rough.
My husband finally offered me his great wisdom.
“This isn’t the Opry, it’s our back porch. Now lighten up and have fun already.”
I’ve been having a lot of fun since he said that. When I get frustrated (like I am tonight) I remind myself that I started playing the banjo on May 25 2012 and I missed three lessons in June because of traveling. So really, I’ve only been playing for four weeks. In those four weeks, I have learned chords, how to tune a banjo, how to read tabs, four basic rolls and now I’m learning slides.
My husband does not think less of me because I haven’t mastered this yet.
My instructor (who has been playing guitar for 40 and banjo for 3 years) does not think less of me because I’m not as good as he is.
Fact: I sing in the chorus of the second longest running presentation of Handel’s Messiah in the US. Have since 2000. I cannot read a lick of music. I’ve memorized the entire piece. That takes talent.
Learning how to create music brings me joy and will help me become a better songwriter.
Hating myself because I have the unrealistic expectation of mastering something over night (like slides) is ridiculous.
This isn’t the Opry.
It’s my back porch.
I hereby give myself permission to not be great while I learn with the knowledge that every time I try, I will get better.
What new thing are you trying to learn right now?
Are you willing to be kind to yourself while you learn?
Friday Funny: Southern Women Make Great Evangelists
I had a chance to meet one of my favorite Christian singers a few years back, but I was too busy evangelizing one of the volunteers and I missed the meet and greet.
You see, I had taken my family to see this man perform at a local church and when I walked in with my boys a gentlemen stepped in front of me and shoved a flier in my hands. I read it when I sat down and discovered it was an invitation to this singer’s senior citizens cruise later that fall. I didn’t make anything of it, figuring he had to give them to everyone. I was after all only 43 at the time.
Then my husband arrived. He tried to take a flier out of this man’s hand and do you know he said?
“I’m sorry sir, these fliers are for senior citizens only and you don’t look old enough.”
Have you ever seen a Southern woman throw a wall-eyed hissy with a red rubber tail? Something like that will turn even the deepest of atheists in to a man of prayer. I can guarantee you if that man wasn’t saved before he gave me the flier, he is now.
Be Blessed Y’all.
Isaiah 43:1 But now, this is what the LORD says— he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.”
Just Me and My Banjo
My first banjo lesson was last Friday. I learned how to hold it while sitting down which involved a brief lesson on the difference between boys and girls. I learned how to use the picks they gave me, and how to read a tabulature, a pick roll and three new chords (G, C, and D7). I’ve been playing until my fingers want to fall off. Seriously it hurts to type. I’m happy to report though that C no longer buzzes. yeah me!
Houston, we have music.
Today is the day
My baby is graduating high school today — I’ve been searching for my sound mind all day, all I can find is my leaky heart.
I’ll be back, I promise
For the first time in 21 years my boys will not be home for Mother’s Day. My oldest will be celebrating a wedding out of state with his closest friends and my youngest is in Belize working at a mission for the week with his class.
Life is a cycle. My boys are now men. They bring joy and laughter beyond measure to my life. As hard as it was sometimes to be a stay at home mom – yes I missed my career, I would do it again in a heart beat. I love being their mom.
I know I’m breaking some rather large blogger rules by posting videos all week. Graduation is just a week away and we are up to our eyeballs in preparation. I hope you understand. For all the Mom’s out there, Happy Mother’s Day.
My Face is as Red as Half of My Hair
“You look a lot younger on your profile picture than in real life.”
Thank you?
What kind of statement is that? I mean unless it’s retro week or something, I do keep my profile pics up-to-date. I tell people I have a 21-year-old and a 18-year-old. Unless I gave birth pre-puberty, I would think my age is self apparent. Apparently not to some. I do consider the source. The person in question was a 20 something comic who’d not yet met me in person and chose to believe I was younger because I was just starting out in comedy at the time.
Fast forward two years and add a lot more grey hair to the equation and I start believing in better living through chemistry. Clairol chemistry to be exact. Looking in the mirror while at the lake on April 1, I see more grey hair than I do red and the first thing that pops into my mind is, “Oh my gosh, I cannot meet John Branyan looking like this! I have to fix this, now.”
I packed my bags and left my family in the proverbial dust as I raced home to color my hair.
I didn’t have a lot of time. It was already 2 pm and the doors opened at 6 for the comedy concert.
I hit the drug store, bought a new shade of red that promised to cover the grey in 25 minutes and headed home.
I parted, combed, colored, covered and waited for Clairol to work her magic. The end result was splendid in my opinion. By the time the boys got home from the lake, I was sporting my new do. I even curled my hair and put on make up – just to meet John. It was almost 4:30 by time the guys made it home. We rushed out the door to go stand in line for good seats.
The show was wonderful.
Meeting John Branyan and Tim Hawkins (both fellow CCA Comics) afterwards was a huge treat.
John was gracious and kind and said he’s looking forward to seeing me again in Nashville in June at our conference.
Watching Tim lay his head on the table when my son asked him to autograph his butt was truly priceless.
None of that however compares to 24 hours later, at my son’s soccer game when I turn to my husband and ask, “Is it me or are people looking at me funny?”
“They aren’t looking at you funny, they are just smiling.”
“Why are they smiling?”
He is in the danger zone and he knows it. Pausing for wisdom – or an earthquake to eat him whole – whichever comes first, he finally fesses up.
“Well, I’m curious. Did you mean to only color the front of your hair?”
“WHAT?”
“I mean it looks great, it’s just that you missed the entire back of your head, that’s all.”
NICE.
I called my girlfriend Michele, who was also at the concert to ask her if she noticed. She did. She thought I did it on purpose and didn’t say anything.
I let her live because in all fairness, we were already there – what was anyone going to do? Still – I went out in public looking like a middle-aged punk rock, 80’s flash back wanna be with big hair and NO ONE TOLD ME!
Alright ladies and gents. Your turn. While I’m shampooing with Prell to strip this back out and try again, I’d love to hear about your fashion catastrophes.
Cassidy Gets her lip pierced.
Hi There. My name is Cassidy. I’m a rescue dog. When I was just 4 months old, I rescued my master from this really busy parking lot and went home with her to take care of her border collie Rocky because he was sad and lonely. I like to play with Rocky. He’s funny. Sometimes he’ll be pretending to sleep in the back yard and as soon as I start barking at him, he jumps as high as the moon and then chases me around the pool.
My Mommy is busy today covering up holes in the yard with fresh dirt so that I can dig again. Isn’t she nice? I like my Mommy. She keeps yummy things laying around the house for me to eat. Sometimes she leaves a big ole juicy pot roast on the counters just for me.
It has to be for me.
Everything is for me.
It’s the rule.
I went with Mommy to the lake this weekend and oh the wonderful smells. We had so much fun running and playing and fishing. She even left chocolate cookies on the counter for me to eat.
I almost couldn’t get them because Mommy likes to hide my food in plastic boxes and put it waaaay back and out of reach. But I’ve grown now and I can reach anything I want.
Do you know that I am part Jack Russell?
Yep.
I can jump three feet straight into the air.
That helps when reaching cookies.
I didn’t eat all of them. I left three on the floor for master. I’m sure she was pleased. I’m learning how to share.
I also left a big old brown spot in the middle of her white carpet after I threw up.
I don’t like throwing up.
I must have eaten too much dog food.
Mommy called someone named “The Vet” to make sure I will be okay.
I don’t like that name. We know a man with that name in Tulsa. He likes to poke me with nasty things. I hope this man doesn’t come over. If he does, I’ll bite him. But he said I’d be fine and he doesn’t need to come over. Yippee!
When I was feeling better I went hunting for smells and I found hot dogs.
The boy who lives with us likes to fish. I like it when he fishes. We run and jump and play near the water. There are lots of great smells near the water.
I smelled hot dogs on Saturday.
And I know they were for me.
ME ME ME.
They were deep inside a green bag and on a stick! Yummy!
OOWIEEE..
I don’t like that stick. It’s pointy and it won’t come out! MOOMMMY!!!
Mommy chased me all over the yard trying to take my hot dog away but I wouldn’t let her catch me so she called Mr Vet again and this time he came over.
I tried to bite him but he told Mommy we needed to have a blanket party.
I like parties. I just wish my mouth didn’t hurt so much.
I got excited when I saw Mommy get a nice big blanket from inside but then she threw it on me and everything went dark.
That’s when Mr Vet gave me a shot, right in my back leg.
WOW did that hurt.
I don’t like blanket parties.
I must have been really tired from all the smells and running because I fell asleep really fast and when I woke up, I was on the blanket and Mr Vet wasn’t there anymore.
Mommy wouldn’t let me eat or drink anything for a looong time. And she wrapped up my lip ring and threw it deep in the trash so that I don’t find it again. I guess a 10 month old puppy is too young for a lip ring.
Mommy said she’s really tired today from resting at the lake all weekend. We might take a nap. I’m thinking that is a good idea.
Have a great day ya’ll.
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 