I guess I’m weird… November 17, 2008

I have Christmas spirit.  I really do.  I just don’t really get into it until after Thanksgiving.  I love Thanksgiving.  Love it.  It was always our biggest family gathering.  Amazingly drama-free, Thanksgiving has always been so much fun.  Lots of people crowded into a small house, eating the best food EVER, talking, watching football, and sleeping.  Best holiday, hands down.

Christmas is great.  I mean, hel-lo, celebrating the birth of Jesus?  It should be a big deal.  And it is.  It is in my heart, and my girls will never be asked whose birthday they are celebrating on December 25th and look up and say, “Grandpa’s?”  (I did that.)

We don’t have a tree.  I think we had one our first Christmas.  It was a rather small thing, barely taller than The Husband.  I’m not even quite sure how we had ornaments for it, to tell you the truth.  It was old, though, and kind of hurting, so it didn’t get taken out after that first Christmas.  Our second Christmas, when we were in a house and had a 2-month-old, there was not going to be a tree.  Apparently that could possibly be a federal offense, so we were given a small tree (two feet tall) that came with small shiny plastic ornaments.  We put it on our dining room table.  I’m looking around and I’m not sure where we’ll put it this year since Li’l Bit could get her hands on it…

But… really?  I wouldn’t mind if we didn’t have a tree at all.

Don’t look at me like that.

Seriously.  Stop.

The grandparents put trees up.  Friends do.  The girls will see plenty of trees.  Where do we put the presents, you ask?  …What presents?

Okay, pick up your jaw.

The Husband and I give each other something.  We buy for our family.  We open all of our gifts at the grandparents’ houses.  So as far as the girls are concerned, Santa takes their gifts there.  Does it really matter as long as they get them?  I don’t think so.  Besides, they’re not given by us.  We gave Big Sister her first gift last year, and she quickly dismissed it in favor of a similar item given to her by her great-grandmother, so I’m okay with them just getting their much-appreciated gifts from other family members.

We’ll probably have lights up.  The Husband is okay with not having a tree this year, but he likes lights.  I like them because he does them and I don’t have to help.  I did lights one year when I was single.  I’m pretty sure they were still on the house when I moved out… in July or August…  I love looking at Christmas lights. Other people’s Christmas lights are best.  Big Sister has these really cool glasses that make the lights look like little snowmen.  I’ve never been high on an illegal substance, but I’m pretty sure it’s all kinds of trippy.

There’s a part of me that thinks there’s some piece of Mom Gene missing from me in that I don’t get all excited about decorating in general.  I think it’s so cool to see people’s creative ideas for nurseries and kids’ rooms.  I saw one little girl’s room all done with a High School Musical theme — with the title even painted on the wall!  The mom is completely prepared to change it when a new fad comes along!  The only reason my girls have matching “art” in their room is because I went through a Kim Anderson phase in high school.

The good thing is, I’m almost certain they’re not going to know any better.  That their furniture is a mixture of things I had when I lived with my grandmother and hand-me-downs from generous friends.  That if anything matches, it’s almost guaranteed to be accidental. 

I had Holly Hobby window treatments and matching bed spread until I was out of the house.  I never had a second thought about it.  I also never realized that we were getting just three gifts a year under the tree until I was told as an adult that was the case.  We always had what we needed.  Most of the time, we always got what we wanted as well.

That’s a tradition I don’t mind carrying on.

Adventures in Fangirling November 13, 2008

Could there have been a better day?  I think not.

Fangirl Friend (hereby referred to as FF) and I got an early start thanks to a very, very good friend who was willing to take both my girls for the entire afternoon.  FF and I got to our destination, caught up with each other and just killed some time.  Then it was time to go meet more fangirls.  They had arranged to gather at a restaurant, and we were joining them.

We soon realized we were minor league fangirls.  They had the shirts.  Bumper stickers.  And glow sticks.  The glow sticks were of the utmost importance.  Some had come from the tippy top of the state, and this was not their first concert.  They were diehards.  Several were also quite a bit older than us.  Maybe that’s what happens when a group is publicized only on public television.

Off to the venue.  FF debated whether or not to get a program, and ultimately decided to go for it.  We gazed at the images, studied the song list, and waited patiently for the concert to begin.

The concert itself was not what we expected — it was better!  Their singing was even more amazing live than it was on the DVD!  We laughed, we squealed, we woo-hooed, we sighed dreamily.  We also learned that at least one member wears smiley-face boxers beneath his kilt.

After the concert, what were two fangirls to do?  We knew the group was meeting those who paid a pretty penny to get up close and personal with them, so we decided to mosey around the building.  You know, maybe see if we came across any tour buses…

We walked around the arena.  The area around us just kept getting darker.  I looked down a very wide alley.  FF hesitated.  I pointed and said, “That looks like a bus.”  We trekked on.  Passing us were those we’d heard talking about the meet and greet at the restaurant — a good sign. 

We approached a gated area and saw not one, not two, but three buses.  I looked down the sidewalk and smiled.  Jackpot!  Creepy stalker people.  (Not really.  Because they were a lot like us.  And we’re not creepy at all.)  I dragged FF along to join them.

We were in the company of several others, and we struck up a lively conversation with a mom, her daughter and her daughter’s friend.  (Cool mom, letting the girls stay up stalk like that.  I hope I’m that cool when I grow up.)  As we laughed and chatted and waited peacefully to catch a glimpse of the group, up walked some rent-a-cops.  “Time to go,” they announced. “They won’t be coming while you all are here.”  They pointed across to the other side of the buses, and we walked over… But no one really left. 

FF looked a little concerned.  She was a few feet behind me, standing very still.  She was worried about disobeying a direct order — security had asked us to leave, and I wasn’t showing any signs of compliance.  I couldn’t.  How could we leave when we were this close to where they had to go before they left??

A large portion of the group had moved up closer to an exit near the equipment truck.  There was some commotion.  I squinted toward the dimly lit area that the people were beginning to cluster around.

“IT’S RYAN!” I exclaimed.

And indeed it was Ryan Kelly, outside greeting the fans.  I turned and waved FF forward — we were going to see him.  Possibly even touch him.  I pulled out my camera to prepare it for having my picture and FF’s taken with Ryan Kelly.

That was when the little red battery popped up on my display screen.  Then the screen went black.  Not long after that, I remembered I hadn’t put the extra set of batteries in my purse.  Disappointment flooded my soul.  I was even more crushed when Paul Byrom and Keith Harkin came strolling out, merrily signing autographs and posing for pictures, just as Ryan was.

Then I realized where I was.  I was up against the little barrier that the security personnel had put up when they figured out that the fans weren’t leaving, and that the objects of the fans’ affection were going to be gracious and spend time with them.  It didn’t matter that my batteries were dead, they were coming our way.  FF got out her program.  I prayed that I wouldn’t pee my pants. 

Ryan had a Sharpie marker in his hand.  FF asked for an autograph, he signed her program, and then posed for a picture that I attempted to take of them with her phone.  (You can see their pearly whites pretty well, and that’s about it.)  Then I looked at him.  No camera to take a picture.  No program for him to sign…   No problem.

FF and I also each got a hug from Ryan.  Hugs.  From Ryan.  FF could only blink in awe and wonderment.

Paul was next.  Paul, who is strikingly good looking up close and personal.  Paul, who is also funny and charming.  He signed FF’s program.  He used. my. pen.  Mine.  He touched it.  He hugged FF.  He hugged me.

Along came Keith, his shaggy blond hair still soaking wet from his shower.  FF, who was regaining her senses, asked him if he’d gone surfing earlier that day.  “Yes,” he replied.  “Where?” she asked.  He replied that he’d been a mere 20 miles north of us.  FF had a conversation with Keith. 

My camera showed signs of life, so I attempted a picture of FF and Keith, but the screen went black again.  I got my hug from Keith, and then asked him to hug FF since the picture hadn’t worked out.  He obliged.  He also stood for many pictures with several teeny fans.  Adorable.

Then they were off.  We had the opportunity to speak to the producer who put the group together, and we waited a while longer to see if the other two members were going to come out, but really… We were quite content with what we had!  Autographs.  Clothes that carried the scent of three talented and good-looking Irish tenors.  Amazing memories.

Good times, good times.

Fangirl Friends November 11, 2008

Back when I first laid eyes on George, Paul, Ryan, Keith and Damian, PBS was offering tickets to a local concert for the rock bottom price of a $180 donation to the station.  I thoughtfully told The Husband that since our anniversary was in the same month, maybe that could be our night out…  and he was considering it!  (Have I mentioned how awesome The Husband is?)

I am a pretty practical person (as in very practical, I’m not describing myself as pretty and practical), and I realized quickly that the concert was on a weeknight, it didn’t start until 8 p.m. and was at least an hour away from home.  It would be such a late night, with much to do the following day.  It would also mean that the girls would have to be taken care of before The Husband got home from work.  It also cost a lot of money.  Blah, blah, blah, and yada, yada, yada.

The Practical Me shushed the Fangirl inside and won the argument.  I mentioned all those things to The Husband and he shrugged and said, “Fine.”  Had he said, “Are you sure about that?”… Well, I’m pretty sure Fangirl would’ve seized the opportunity to beat the ever-living stuffing out of The Practical Me in order to shriek, “No!  I’m not sure!  I want to go!“  Alas, he said “Fine” and The Practical Me smugly stuck her tongue out at Fangirl.

Now, what kind of Fangirl doesn’t try to recruit more people?  It is no fun being a Fangirl alone.  Ask any former (or current!) NKOTB fan.  I told several friends and family members about Celtic Thunder.  I did manage to get my mom interested enough to purchase both of their CDs and the DVD of their concert.  Score!  And of course, my oldest daughter still wants to listen to them in the car and can now sing A Thiarna, déan trócaire,  A Chríost, déan trócaire with conviction.  A handful of friends humored me by watching a couple of YouTube clips and blithely remarking that yes, they were great singers and yes, they were handsome.  And there were those who couldn’t get past the kilts and knee socks.  (Not skirts and legwarmers, geez.)

One friend, however, fell and fell hard.  She got me.  She was catching what I was throwing.  Not only did she become a bonafide Fangirl herself, but she converted co-workers as well.  They all decided that they would go to the concert together.  She offered to purchase a ticket for me when she purchased theirs.

Fangirl gave The Practical Me a swift kick in the shin.  Didn’t work.

Then Fangirl Friend sent me an e-mail.  She asked me simply if there was an available free ticket and transportation was provided, would I want to go to the concert with her?  Uh, would I?  WOULD I?!  Even The Practical Me couldn’t argue with that!!  I AM GOING TO THE CONCERT, BAY-BEEEE!!!

So, Fangirl Friend… thank you, thank you a thousand times over!  Thank you for feeding my own Fangirl Frenzy, for enabling my CT addiction, and most importantly being the kind of friend that you are.  The kind of friend where… if I should become a stranger, know that it would make me more than sad. 

Bring smelling salts.  I don’t know how we’re going to handle this.

F is for Fornication November 10, 2008

It got your attention, didn’t it?

I’m going to go all Southern Baptist on y’all and give you the four F’s that I found frequently throughout my featured friends’ tales of clean living.  What kept them on the straight and narrow?  What kept them from hopping into a bed prior to their marital one?  Let’s find out.

FAITH
First and foremost, their faith.  My faith was definitely the number one reason I decided to wait.  ~  It was my faith, for sure…  ~  Primarily it was my faith.  ~  Because the Bible said not to.   They believed that God designed sex for a married man and woman, and they didn’t want to go against that.  It wasn’t only their faith they attribute it to, though.  I am fully convinced that God protected and preserved me, at least in part, because my mother-in-law-to-be was praying faithfully for me for years before she knew my name.  Hear that?  As you pray for your own children to make wise decisions, it’s not a bad idea to pray for their future mate as well.

FAMILY
Because my parents told me not to.  ~  Another factor was my parents’ example.  Both of them waited (even though they did not grow up in Christian homes)…   ~  I had been taught by my parents all my life that the right thing to do was to wait to have sex until marriage…  ~  I waited because my parents instilled in me the importance of waiting…   Moms and dads, your children are listening!  Talk to them, be open with them — don’t shy away from these discussions! 

FRIENDS
I had great friends growing up, especially in high school, who held the same values as this and we were a good support to one another.   ~  I was in a crowd that mostly respected that decision.    ~  I avoided crowds that thought that way {picked on people for their virginity} and chose friends that had just as strong a commitment.

There was a time when I surrounded myself with good influential people.  It was easier then.  There was also a short time period where I hung around with people who were into having sex and partying, it was harder then.  So for the majority of my life, I stayed away from those people and that environment.  The church youth group and being involved with that helped tremendously.

These people chose friends that would support their decision.  When they didn’t, it was more difficult to stick to it.  Try this sometime.  You stand on a chair, and have a friend stand on the floor.  Try and pull your friend up.  No matter how hard you try, you probably aren’t going to get them up there with you.  Now have your friend try to pull you down to the floor.  You’ll be side-by-side with them in a hot second.  It’s a lot easier to bring someone down than pull someone up, so be around others who are going to uplift you.

FEAR!!!
Good, healthy fear.  They were scared to death of the consequences… pregnancy or STD.  ~  I was terrified of being a pregnant teen or getting pregnant in college and not finishing.  Also, the thought of having to tell their spouse that they didn’t wait.   I kept reminding myself what if, just what if, something happened to (him) and later on down the road I met someone and was going to marry them and had to tell them that I loved (the first) enough to wait for (him), but I didn’t love the new guy enough to wait for him.

“Why wait?” is the question.  “WHY NOT?” is the answer!  Wouldn’t you rather take a One-A-Day than a once-daily Valtrex?  Get paid to babysit when you’re a teen rather than work to pay a babysitter?  Experience the first time with someone who has made a commitment to you in front of God and witnesses?  Understand that “practice makes perfect” applies best when you’re practicing with the same person for the rest of your life?

And when these prudes were asked that they had missed out on anything by waiting, their answer was unanimous:  ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!  Now, you could argue that since they’ve only been with one man, they might not really know if they’re missing anything, but I can pretty much guarantee you that in this case, ignorance is the best kind of bliss there is.  Why would anyone want to try to take that away from someone, though? 

Besides, if there’s a chance that you’d find out that the man you married was the best you’d ever had, there’s also the chance to find out that he wasn’t.  Who wants that in the back of their mind?

The pros outweigh the cons.  It takes a stronger person to say no in a situation where they have a choice.  Be strong.  Be smart.  Because, really, the only true safe sex is no sex.

Until you’re married, that is.  Then you can go crazy.  It’s encouraged.

Four Things November 6, 2008

I’m going to get back to that whole virginity thing, honest.  I have to compile the interviews and I’m still waiting on a couple to get back to me.  (Hint, hint.)  SO.  While I’m just sitting here, not wanting to wait too long to blog again, I am stealing a meme I’m sure I’ve done before but also just saw on Because I Said So and decided to do it myself.  So there.

FOUR JOBS I’VE HAD:
1.  Cashier at Checkers  (Yes, it was indeed as nasty as you might imagine.)
2.  Cashier at Chick-fil-A  (Definitely a step UP!)
3.  Receptionist at a couple of places  (I used to be able to smile at everyone regardless of my mood.)
4.  Executive Assistant for various important people  (Important = their name is the company’s name.)

FOUR MOVIES I COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER:
1.  While You Were Sleeping
2.  Wayne’s World
3.  You’ve Got Mail
4.  Pretty much anything with Adam Sandler (That falls into the “guilty pleasure” category… and not everything he’s done.  I haven’t seen his last two.  Or the one where he was Satan’s son or something.  That just looked stupid.  And, you know, all his other movies were clearly works of art.)

FOUR PLACES I’VE LIVED
1.  Where I was born
2.  Where I was raised (which is the same as where I was born)
3.  Where I went to college
4.  Where I moved back to after college (see #1 and #2)

FOUR TV SHOWS I LOVE:
1.  Lost — because of the complexity of the storyline.  It has nothing to do with Sawyer.  Nothing at all.
2.  American Idol — because I’m a lemming and it gives me something to blog about.
3.  House M.D. — because The Husband and I watch it together.
4.  Friends — because everything in life can be connected to a Friends episode.

FOUR PLACES I’VE VACATIONED:
1.  Temecula, CA
2.  Blue Ridge, GA
3.  Atlanta, GA
4.  Orlando, FL

FOUR OF MY FAVORITE FOODS:
1.  Chicken and rice
2.  Pizza
3.  Spaghetti
4.  Almost anything that The Husband makes

FOUR FAVORITE DRINKS:
1.  Diet Black Cherry Vanilla Coke — still my favorite, even though I can’t get it anymore.  *cries*
2.  Diet Dr. Pepper
3.  Chai tea
4.  Sweet iced tea

FOUR SITES I VISIT DAILY:
1.  Facebook
2.  iVillage
3.  Facebook
4.  Google Reader

FOUR PLACES I’D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW:
1.  On my porch in the hammock chair
2.  Alone with The Husband
3.  Two weeks in the future when my sister and her family are here
4.  Right where I am is also good

Build a bridge… November 5, 2008

… and get over it.

I’m writing this before any announcements have been made, before things have been decided.  Because it doesn’t matter who wins, the message is the same.

——-

When my older daughter gets scared, we tell her that God is protecting her, watching over her.  It gives her comfort. 

God can do that.  As the Veggie Tales so succinctly put it, God is bigger than the boogie man.  He’s bigger than Godzilla or the monsters on TV.  God is bigger than the boogie man, and He’s watching out for you and me.

We believe it when we tell it to our kids.  Why can’t we, adults with a heck of a lot more knowledge of what God has done for us, believe that God is bigger than an election?  Bigger than whoever is placed in the Oval Office?  Whichever way it goes, do you really think God is going to be surprised?

I’ve gotten a lot, a lot, of e-mails over the few past months, and with my obvious bias they have been slanted in one direction.  I have a feeling that if the election doesn’t go the way that the senders want it to, there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Maybe even some tearing of clothes and a resurgence of sackcloth.

I think I’m going to hold on to things like this though…

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own.  (Matthew 6:31, NIV)

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.  (John 14:27, NIV)

Not to mention…

Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every authority instituted among men: whether to the king, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right.  For it is God’s will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men.  Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God.  Show proper respect to everyone: Love the brotherhood of believers, fear God, honor the king.  (1 Peter 2:13-17, NIV, emphasis mine)

So, in other words really: Peace out.  God’s still God.  And if you’re not happy with who is going to be leader of our nation, then I guess you better pray harder for him.

Put down the laptop… November 4, 2008

Have you voted yet?  If the answer is no, then stop reading.  Get up, walk out to your car, get in, go to your location, AND VOTE.  Don’t take it for granted.

A lot of people were fasting before the election.  Not eating was too easy for me, so I gave up the internet for a day.  Laugh if you must, but it wasn’t exactly the easiest thing for me to do.  Especially since I hadn’t read up on all of the amendments…  (Don’t worry, The Husband did research and told me what they were about.  I didn’t Christmas Tree my ballot.  Geez.)

It’s a big day for many different reasons.  Do you know what tomorrow will be?  Wednesday.  But today is important, so get out and vote.  Especially if you like coffee, because Starbucks will give you free coffee if you have your sticker on.  And if you like doughnuts, because Krispy Kreme is giving them out.  And finally, do you like ice cream?  Because Ben & Jerry’s is giving out free ice cream from 5 p.m. - 8 p.m. (or from 4 p.m. in some areas).  I’m not going to get ice cream though.  I have my reasons.  (ObamaMobile.)

Bloggers do it for the comments. October 30, 2008

Yes, another flair.  And, like a considerable amount of flair, so true!

This must mean you like me...

 

Kearsie gave me this award after she received it (in the same week that one of her posts reached #1 on Facebook’s blog network), but there are strings attached in order for me to accept the honor.  I have to tell you, the readers, six random facts about myself (which is good, since I don’t think I ever finished my 100) and then tag six unsuspecting fellow bloggers.

 

1.  I don’t like the number six.  It’s amazing I’m following through with this post with as much as I dislike the number six.  I don’t know what I have against the number other than that three of them together make the number of the beast.  That has an actual phobia, you know, fear of the number six hundred sixty-six — hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia.  Say that six times fast.  Don’t really, because if you do, you will have sixty-six years bad juju.  Not six hundred sixty-six, because you won’t live that long.  Or maybe you will, and that is the bad juju.

 

2.  I don’t collect anything, and for a long time I felt like there was some kind of a void in my life because of that.  I had nothing where I lived that showed I had an interest in one particular thing.  No figures.  No coins.  No stamps.  No commerorative plates.  I do like Willow Tree figures, but I can’t just get them to have them.  I want them to mean something — the ones I have relate to specific times or events in my life.  Also, I don’t like buying them for myself.  I keep waiting for The Husband to buy me one of them because he saw one and it reminded him of me.  But that would mean he’d have to be in a place that sold them, and he doesn’t frequent Hallmark or the store inside of Cracker Barrell.  It would also mean he’d have to look at them for longer than a nanosecond.

 

3.  I like Celtic Thunder.  (No one said it had to be new information.  Plus, that was pretty random.  Except that it was me, saying something about Celtic Thunder.  Maybe not so random.  Can I keep the award?)

 

4.  I have been wondering if my words per day quota is met by IMing and e-mailing.  The elusive “they” say that women usually say 20,000 words a day, men say 7,000.  So if in fact the internet is allowing me to use more of my words, then The Husband should be darn grateful I spend so much time online.  It means I’m more available to listen to him and tend to his needs.  WOW.  That is the coolest rationalization EVER.

 

5.  I cannot sew a button back on an item of clothing.  Nor can I mend any stuffed animals that are injured in battle in this home.  When I was in 7th grade I took home economics, and when we had to sew a button, I had a guy in the class do it for me.  I considered it some kind of victory for feminism.  Now I have a very sweet and kind mother-in-law and friends who I suppose are kind of enabling me, because they sew things back on or back together for me. 

 

6.  You do not have any idea how hard it was for me to not leave this one blank.

 

Okay, six bloggers to tag…

 

1.  The Funny Sister.  Two posts to her blog, and already she’s receiving an award.  She’s not just any funny sister, she is the funny sister, and she’s all mine. 

 

2.  Mommy’s Heart.  Because she writes just how she talks, and as I read I can hear her incredibly adorable southern accent in my head.

 

3.  I’m Just Sayin’.  I want her to write more, I’m just sayin’.  And even though she just did something like this, I thought she deserved an award.

 

4.  Lovely Little Lovelies.  She makes amazing things.  She’s smart.  She writes.  She likes me even though I’m a Republican.

 

5.  The Sneaky Ninja Writer.  She’s an inspiration to me. 

 

6.  And, finally, WendiWinn {she likes stuff}.  I love reading her, and I love to engage in peer pressure.

My House, Our Home October 30, 2008

The Husband and I rent.  We wish to buy, and we shall.  You know, when the words economic crisis aren’t being thrown around with reckless abandon.  When it happens, it will be so exciting!  I love the thought of a picture of us in front of a SOLD sign, smiling like little kids at Christmas. 

But wait… Deja vu.  Oh yeah.  I’ve done that before.

The Wolf and I had a house.  The process wasn’t really exciting.  There was a picture, but it wasn’t a picture of a loving couple embarking on a new journey together.  It was two people in front of a sign, in front of a building that they would live in.  Together, yet separate.  The house was purchased because it seemed like it would make things better, bring us closer together.  But things only got worse.

It will be completely different when The Husband and I have a house — it will be a home.  We will be entering that home as a team, a unit.  A couple.  A family.

So it will be better, because it will be right.  The right person, the right time, the right place.  What a difference that will make.

Still… It would have been nice to not have any memories of a previous experience.  Even things learned the first time around don’t seem to matter because it was all wrapped in something so wrong, so ill-advised, any hope of the education being beneficial is pretty much lost.

Imagine how much nicer the process would be if there was nothing to compare it to.  How much more special it would be if the first home I’d bought was with The Husband.

Are you catching what I’m throwing?  For those who don’t enjoy a good analogy, I’ll speak slowly.  The house is like s e x.  Moral of the story: it’s better to wait.

You can give pieces of yourself away to anyone, thinking it’s the next logical step or that it will bring you closer together.  It won’t.  You might get a false sense of security at first, but that facade can only last for so long.  Eventually, because it isn’t the right person, the right time, the right place, it will just magnify everything that is wrong.

That’s not to say that the right experience will be any less exciting (and many other positive adjectives), but you’d never have to wonder if what you’ve brought in from your past has somehow colored the present.  You’d never compare.  And the other person won’t have to wonder either.  It’s all about the two of you, and nobody else.

That’s the way it was meant to be.

Adventures in Virginity October 28, 2008

Many, many thanks to those that have been willing to share their own adventures in virginity with me!  For those of you that just skimmed that post (tsk, skimmers), if you are willing to answer some questions about why you waited to have sex, or if you are in the process of waiting for your wedding night, please contact me at muchmorethanmommy(at)gmail(dot)com.

——-

I wanted to post a public service announcement of sorts.  Because I remember being a young, impressionable girl.  I remember hearing a lot about waiting.  I heard all the reasons to wait, and they were excellent reasons.  I heard how beautiful it would be when it was right, and I wholeheartedly believed it — and have found that to be true, by the way.

I heard about how basically all physical contact led up to sex.  Though it was severely mocked, one guy on a video talked about the “biological hand grenade ladder” — once you take one step up, you just want to keep going.  So don’t get on the ladder.  (For weeks, maybe months, after that, couples would hold hands and those of us who had seen the video would gasp at their taking the first step on that ladder.  We were joking.)

I got it.  All roads led to sex, so don’t get on the road.  Boys are the gas, girls are the brakes.  Understood.

What everyone failed to mention was that maybe, just maybe, even though I was a girl, I might have the desire to hit that gas pedal from time to time.

Granted, for quite a while the life of a prude worked for me.  My first kissing experience obviously didn’t leave me wanting more.  The first time an attempt was made for second base, several errors were made and the player was called out.  I spent a great deal of time wondering why anyone would want to make out.  Seriously, that worked for me.

Alas, one day there was a kisser without fangs.  Then kissing didn’t seem so bad.  But only kissing.  That was it.  Everything else was uncomfortable and awkward and practically unpleasant.

Those were the good ol’ days.

I remember how absolutely shocked I was the first time a guy made a play for second and my internal coach was waving him on.  WHAT?!?  That was not supposed to happen!  I was supposed to be appalled!  Offended!  Disgusted even!

Yeah, not so much.

Thankfully Someone was looking out for me and I managed to stay out of trouble for quite a while.

But really, nobody ever, ever told me I might actually enjoy the kissing and the more than kissing!  Why didn’t anyone warn me??

Anyway.  Adults.  Leaders, mothers, fathers… Let’s be honest with our kids and prepare them for what they’re going to encounter.  Tell them why 2 Timothy 2:22 says to flee youthful lusts (or, for that matter, lustful youth) — FLEE!  That’s the only way to keep out of trouble.  Don’t go dancing up to the line to see how close you can come before you cross it.  That’s. Just. STUPID.  And dangerous.

The pros obviously outweigh the cons when it comes to abstinence, but if you’re on the edge, you’re probably not using your brain so much at that time.  Don’t get yourself into a position where you are face-to-face with the decision.  And believe those that have gone before you when they tell you it’s worth waiting for.