Dislike Me the Way I Dislike Cats

It's no secret that I want to be liked. I'm the wrong person to ask if you want an honest opinion about a dress that's too tight or if you got a questionable haircut. I'll tell you you're beautiful. Partly because you are beautiful and partly because I can't muster the courage to tell you the whole truth. It looks awful. But you're still beautiful. 

But I'm also not a doormat... anymore. At least I try not to be (see blog title circa 2011). I'm an opinionated people pleaser which is a tricky life to live. I'm constantly walking the line between a compulsive desire to express myself and an obnoxious need to be appreciated. Barf. 

But I'm about to say something that I've never said before. It's okay if you don't like me. Not like you needed my permission, of course. It's okay if you don't like my bleeding heart. It's okay if you don't appreciate my God-is-love worldview. It's okay if you find the 10 million Instagram photos I post of my toddler to be annoying/underwhelming/monotonous or uncreative. It's okay if you think my Facebook status was cheesy. It's okay if you don't like my beliefs, thoughts, feelings, wordiness, corniness, or even this blog. It's okay with me.

But what I'm asking from all of you who don't like me or truly anyone who doesn't like anyone (.... which would be everyone, right?).... is to dislike me (or insert name of whoever you don't like) the way that I dislike cats. 

Now hold up, cat lovers. It's nothing personal against you or even the cats! I've never been traumatized by a cat. It's nothing that I'm taking out on the entire cat population because of one cruel and unusual cat. It's simple. I just don't like them. I don't like the way their tails are as long as their bodies. It creeps me out. I don't like their slinky movements. 

I don't like them but, damn it, I still respect them. I dig the way that they do whatever they want to. I can't say that I love the fact that our neighbor cat strolls through our backyard as he darn well pleases but I have mad respect for his give-no-shits attitude. Our dogs are barking like mad and he just struts with confidence through the yard like he owns the place. I appreciate that. I respect that. I don't like cats but I can respect them enough as a living, breathing thing that I wish them no harm. I won't call them names. I won't hurt them maliciously. I may even interact with one if it really wanted to. And I'd be kind. Maybe a little uncomfortable but kind. 

Every week I see awful comments back and forth on social media. In person, I hear people use terms like "asshole" and "dipshit" to describe people who disagree with them. I've personally been called everything from "ignorant" to "bitch" to names too harsh to type. I was told I should "go to hell" for disagreeing with someone over a current events discussion. To that person and all people who don't like me, it's fine by me if you dislike me. I won't lose any sleep at night over it. But maybe you could consider disliking me the same way I dislike cats. You can just keep your distance and I'll keep doing my thing. 

5 Things We All Need to Stop Doing Right Now

There's a list for everything now. Top ten ways to get into shape. Seven best vacation spots. Thirty things to do before you turn 30. Twenty-five creative ways to shave your beard. You get it. But here's some things we should all STOP doing as soon as humanly possible from an unapologetically opinionated woman who can't stop won't stop. 

1. STOP ignoring perfectly good company

Multitasking doesn't exist. It should be called "half-assing two things." Okay, so we're having a face-to-face conversation and your phone buzzes. I know what's happening right now. That little red notification is just waiting to be opened like a present on Christmas morning. You know you shouldn't because, come on, that's rude. Oh but you just did. Oops. I bet it's the most interesting text/snapchat/comment/retweet you've ever received and it was well worth it. Nope. It's just another of your friends asking "What's up?" It would be really rude to respond while I'm sitting right there telling you a story. You decide you can wait.... damn it, no you can't. That friend will think you're rude if you don't respond. Or they'll think you're in trouble... or dead! You don't have a choice now. You have to respond. But do it subtly, looking up every so often to make sure I know you're still "listening." I'll just continue talking as you slowly nod and say things like, "Uh huh?" and "Really?" with glazed over eyes darting back and forth from your screen to my face your screen to my face. 

Stop. Let's all stop this. If something is urgent... they'll call. Look up! 

2. STOP with the sentences that start like this: "This is probably a stupid question but..."

Remember in elementary school when Mrs. So and So would tell you, "The only stupid question is the one not asked." Mrs. So and So was a real treat - under appreciated and underpaid. She knew her stuff. If only I would have listened to her I could have avoided a lot of self-doubt and I may have even learned the fundamentals of geometry. Probably not the latter. That was a lost cause. But the confidence lesson was priceless. Women are particularly guilty of this. You're in a meeting and you have something to contribute. "Sorry, can I make a comment about that quick before we move on?" What is the apology for? Having an opinion? Can you make a comment? YES! Permission isn't needed for the men in the room. Can you make the comment quick? What's the rush? Take your time. Speak you mind. Stop apologizing for being alive with a working brain. You're worthy! 

3. STOP throwing poop at the other side of the aisle

When people argue, particularly on social media, I imagine that we are just monkeys in a zoo. There are two cages - one on the left and one on the right. Anytime one of the monkeys on the left get too vocal, a monkey on the right throws some poop at him. When one of the monkeys on the right chimes in, a monkey from the left throws poop her way. It's a real shit show. Pun intended. All of the monkeys stay in the same cage they started in but now everyone stinks. Stop throwing poop and use your kind, respectful words. We're not monkeys, people. Or are we? Uh oh. Before you start: just staaaaahp! 

4. STOP comparing body parts like they're products 

Does anyone else think it's weird that we're all "someBODY"? Yes we have a body but we're more than that. Beyond the thin/thick hair/legs/upper arms, single or double chins, flat or arched feet, flat or rolley stomachs, perky or saggy boobs, brittle or strong nails - we are SOULS. We have a spirit that makes each of us unlike any other person in the world with a set of unique traits and abilities that could never be replicated. Isn't that powerful? More powerful, perhaps, than refreshing our Instagram account and comparing our nose/calves/hair to the person on the screen? 

5. STOP beating yourself up for your old mistakes

Did you apologize to those you hurt? Did you learn from it? Did you grow from it? Good. Please know that you're more than the poor choices you made. You're more than the hurt you caused. It's time to pack up all that baggage and throw it out the window. Ain't nobody got space in their beautiful home for old dirty laundry. Spring cleaning, anyone? 

Now stop reading this and get back to work / go to bed / hug your love / text your mom / read to your kid / compliment yourself in the mirror / read a book / go for a walk / cross something off your to do list / dance around to Uptown Funk in your underwear. 

Dear Baby Tref

My Precious Child,

I have already fallen in love with you. No morning sickness. No intense cravings or aversions. No real symptoms other than fatigue and very mild aches and pains. You, my lovely child, are taking it pretty easy on me. Thank you.

We went to the first prenatal appointment and were told that your approximate due date is March 19^th. At the appointment today, we heard your heartbeat. It is my new favorite sound! 

Next week we plan to see your very first picture. I have a feeling you will be photogenic as can be, even if you are just a tiny little nugget. As priceless as those moments are, I have had my own little moments of confirmation with you over the past few weeks. Quiet moments. Little twinges in my lower belly remind me that you are forming. Right there. Inside of me. Always with me.

At this very moment, you are about the size of a prune. Your little limbs are forming and your nerve cells are connecting with one another. I want to kiss your tiny fingers and toes and hold you close to my heart. I want to rock you to sleep with old Bob Dylan songs and teach you the same nursery rhymes my parents taught me.

But for now I have only my dreams of you. Hopes.

I hope that you will never underestimate the power of compassion. I hope that you can drown out the voices telling you that you’re not good enough. I hope that you fight for the underdog and see the best in people. I hope that you forgive yourself when you fall short of your own expectations; you’ll learn that nothing is a mistake so long as you learn something from it. I hope that you allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you’re raw and honest enough to fall into a life changing love – the kind of love that I found with your father when I least expected it.

I hope that you will never allow your heart to harden or your faith to dwindle. I hope that you see this gigantic world from a place of empathy and kindness. There are billions of people on this planet, each one with a heart, a soul, an opinion, and people who love them. You are no better than and no less than anyone else. Don’t believe the fools who try to tell you otherwise. I hope that you remember that home is always a safe place – where truth and consideration will always win out over judgment and criticism. I hope you know that there is nothing you could ever do that could make me stop loving you.

My mother has told me dozens of times that my sister and I are the greatest joys of her life. I understand now exactly what she means. I look forward to the rest of my life more than ever before knowing that you will be a part of it, my precious baby.

Love Forever and Always,

Mom  

What She Sees

Finding things I wrote in high school and college always feels like a sort of time-travel. I will stumble upon something written by a younger, often-jaded and angsty version of myself and suddenly I'm there. I'm back in it. That heartache. That frustration. That confusion. That chaos. And it hurts. It still hurts.

But I rediscovered something beautiful this morning - something I had started in high school but finished years later, after getting engaged to my now-husband. I read through the poem again for the first time in three years. There was an aching in my heart, a tugging in my chest that made me want to run back to 2007 and give younger me a hug. But by the last line, I got it. I hope you can take from it what I did. We are stronger than our pain. We are more than the scars on our heart. We deserve love. Real love.

What She Sees

She looks at the mirror and sees what nobody else can.

She sees her smile.

The smile passed down from her lovely mother.

But she sees past its simplicity.

She sees the times she smiled to get out of trouble.

Out of lies.

Out of the contradiction that she didn’t want to admit.

She sees the blue eyes she inherited from her father

Surrounded by a forest of long black lashes.

She looks deep into her own eyes in the mirror and sees the tears.

They hide so perfectly behind her pride.

Invisible tears.

A product of the pain she never admits

And the secrets she always keeps.

She sees her nose

Decorated with an assortment of freckles.

She remembers the smell of his cologne

A smell that was slowly replaced with cigarette smoke on his clothes.

She remembers the hopeless feeling of losing him

To a demon without a name.

Years have passed.

The woman looks into the mirror once more.

She sees her smile

Now sincere and beautiful.

Her mother’s smile.

She sees her blue eyes

Her father’s indeed.

Behind which lie memories of miracles, tragedies, and foreign lands.

The invisible tears are gone

Replaced by tangible tears. She lets them fall.

She sees her nose.

The freckles have faded.

She can no longer remember the smell of his cologne.

She doesn’t mind.

And now she sees her collarbone

Something she has never cursed

For it has always been her most delicate and feminine feature.

She sees the wounded heart underneath

Mending slowly through the love of a man she never expected.

She sees her hands

Full of imperfections and bitten fingernails

Upon which he placed a ring.

His most beautiful reminder that he will never forsake her.

She is blessed.

He Loves My Soul and I Love His

There are these fields near my hometown - the kind of vast lands often associated with western North Dakota with the kind of fields that seem to go on and on without an end, organized so intricately with rows of wheat to be harvested. These fields are well thought out and intentional. They are important. They are valuable. They serve a purpose.

I never imagined I would compare the greatest love I've ever known to a wheat field, but here I am about to do just that. I guess you never quite take the Mercer County out of the girl. 

One year ago, I made the smartest decision of my life. I married Robby Trefethren. I thought in that moment - in the presence of those we loved, flowers pinned into my hair, winds shaking the trees around us - I swore I could never love him more than I did in that moment. But over the past 365 days, I have fallen deeper and deeper in love with the man he is. The way he speaks. The purpose in his walk. The faith in his heart. The promise of his future. Our future.

Just like those wheat fields, our love is organized. Our day-to-day life is put into planners and agendas, full of Dem-NPL meetings and opening shifts at Starbucks and grad school deadlines. It's not always romantic. That's a fact. But through all the 4 am alarms, the botched interviews, the job offers, the messes, the heartbreaks, the victories, and the chaos - he's right here. Steady. Sturdy. Grounded. Like the wheat fields that surrounded me through so much of my life, he's not going anywhere. 

He is important. He is valuable. He has a purpose. 

Is he my soul mate? Now that's a tricky question, an answer to which I will never find so long as I walk this earth. But I know this for sure: he loves my soul and I love his. He is the only man I want to see drooling on the pillow next to me. He is the only voice I want to hear yelling at the basketball game in the next room. He is the only hand I want to hold when I feel like breaking down. He is the reason I want to be a better woman every single day. 

Robby, my love,

You were the best decision of my life.

Together we have experienced the kinds of things I used to dream of.

You inspire me to love deeper and dream bigger.

With every year that passes, I realize just how much our hearts are capable of.

Thank you for going along with every health kick, cleanse, and hobby I think up...

For allowing me to kiss you in public...

Actually... I'd just like to thank you for being seen with me in public... 

And for telling the food was delicious, even the time I butchered that salmon recipe.

This year has been the happiest of my whole life.

The sushi dates...

Our first Christmas as an old married couple...

Our most delicious cookies to date...

Our first of what I assume to be many vineyard tours to come...

The trips...

The kisses... 

The never-ending winter...

Did I mention the never-ending winter? 

The trip of a lifetime...

With (hands down) the best looking guy in the room...

Witnessing history...

Then back home to our own little piece of paradise...

To our Mezzaluna happy hour dates for the best burgers in town (only $7!)...

And carrying on family traditions...

I got to experience it all with YOU! And I can't stop falling in love with you...

The way you set up multiple bird houses so the birds can choose one they like...

The way you carry our puppies around like children...

The hard work you put into this house just to make me smile... 

The look you get in your eyes when you're thinking about something brilliant...

The fact you'll help me in the kitchen even when you have no idea what you're doing...

The way you insist on snuggling with the puppies before you go to bed...

The fact that you ran in the marathon relay, bad knees and all, just to support me...

The way you smile at me when I get home from work and ask how my day was...

The way you encourage me to CREATE, no matter what it is... 

How you've sat through all of my humming, belting, and whistling without complaint... 

And went along with every idea I had for yet ANOTHER project..

The gardens...

The thrifting and antiquing dates...

The yard work... 

The coffee dates...

The moments of recognition... 

The moments of pride...

The moments of stress and curse words under my breath...

It all made for the best days of my life.

You are the reason I come home...

You are the reason my future is never scary.

You, my love, are perfect for me.

 

You are my home. 

Love Always, 

Lauren