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A Perfect 10

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When my son Nathaniel turned ten, I was shocked– I have been doing this mothering thing for ten years!  Wow!  Those late night feedings, comforting by walking the hall endlessly, stubbed toes, chasing him down, playing dinosaur/cars/train, have now melded into one sporting event after another and conversations about… girls.  He is now 12.  Wow. Wow. The other moms warn me, “those” years– the teen years are coming.  I have decided that my son will, of course, be a charming delight through his teenage years.

I was.

Really!  Ask my parents.

My husband and are dismissing the occasional first grumpy clouds of teen angst as dangerous teenage “experimentation” I hear about.  It will end.   Not long after his 12th birthday, a young lady told him that she liked him… Oh my, lets stop this ride!!  It’s not that I don’t trust my son; I think he is beyond awesome.  This young lady is an exceptional girl; he has great taste. NathanielWe’re even friends with her parents.  Honestly, he should marry this girl!  What?  Yep, I can see the young man he is becoming.  He is great, he will be a great man like his dad, I have no doubt; but still I find myself looking for the breaks!

I want to go back to when he was ten.  Then his interest in girls was observational– if they sat near my son, what words were said, if he perceived them to be having a good day or not, and each day I heard an account of how certain young lady’s day went.  Now it’s bashful smiles and conversations—I find comfort in the fact that without asking him to he gives me a rundown of the conversation… and then it hits me.  My daughter is ten soon… whoa… that means somewhere in the neighborhood there is a boy observing her.  I feel protective and irritated that any boy could see her in a “interested” way.   Back OFF!

I saw a boy at church hold the door open for her… he looked at her.  He is a nice kid.  Great parents.  I felt totally protective.  Why is that I found my son’s interest in girls okay, humorous even and proud that he was picking out such level headed academically oriented kids; but a boy holds the door open for my daughter and I suddenly want to move to the hinterlands?

I remember the heartbreak of my own girlhood…  sometimes that hurt came from boys.  I was still in “the becoming” and wasn’t the girl they were anxious to dance with. Of course it hurt.  Then there were the other girls – teenage girls.  I didn’t get it. I just didn’t get the emotions that come with the roller coaster of girl doom.Ailsa

I realize now, with terror, I have no skillsets to raise a teenage girl.  My teen friends were mostly guys- who I knew I could beat in an arm wrestling match any day.  My daughter is a perfect ten.  She is sooo cute!  She has it all: looks, brains and personality.  So much of my character and becoming the woman I am today came was from being overlooked by my peers– getting to be in a corner watching the world go by.

I want her to stay as she is now, surrounded by her stuffed animals, playing with her American Doll and thinking I have all the answers.  I can take her turning ten, but let’s stop there– at the perfect age of ten.  That, to me, is a perfect ten.  This growing up stuff is overrated!

Last night I kissed my daughter as she was being tucked into bed and whispered to her as I have ten thousand times “Never forget how much I love you.”  I may not have all the answers to help her navigate the next ten years, but I can do what my mom did and see her as the perfect ten that each daughter of God is.

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How to Embrace Your Inner Hotness Audiobook

author labelOne of the first questions I got from people when I wrote How to Embrace Your Inner Hotness was, “When is there going to be an audiobook?” You, my readers have said you want to hear the stories, not just see them.  I’ve heard you want to have it read to you as you drive, work, run errands.  I know the real truth, you want to hear my hilarious voice tell you jokes and have me entertain you!  Since my book shares many personal stories from my life, I knew I was the one that had to read it.  I’ve worked hard to record my audiobook, working to give life to the words through my voice.  I’m so excited to have the audiobook available for all of you.

Listen below for a sample from the audiobook.

If you pre-order before December 15th, your CD copy of How to Embrace Your Inner Hotness will be only $15. 

Click here to pre-order a copy.  CD copies of the book will be mailed out by December 15, and will arrive in the United States before Christmas.  Merry Christmas and enjoy!How-To-Embrace-Your-Inner-Hotness-Cover

 

The Words our Mirrors Say- a deeper look into the book

While writing my book, many people, places and events inspired me.  This blog is to help look deeper into the inspiration behind some of the moments in my book, How to Embrace Your Inner Hotness.

The quote above was inspired by a woman I met at one of my Hotness Workshops.  She was a mother of four children that were close in age.  As so many of us do in that process, she lost a tinge of sanity, a lot of peace and the figure she had before she became a mother.  At the workshop, she shared with the group a powerful story of how she learned about positive self-talk.

One day, after she got out of the shower, she looked in the mirror and felt that what she saw was not flattering.  She was struck by the changes in her body.  She said, “I grabbed by tummy, disgusted with myself that I was this fat!  How could I let this happen?!  I started to call myself names… and then I felt something stop me.  Hadn’t this body birthed four healthy babies?  That was a gift.  I felt an impression that I was never to be so unkind to myself again.  I felt that it was from God.”

After she told her story, the room was quiet.  We all knew we were guilty of being unkind to ourselves and even bullying ourselves at times.  Her experience spoke that truth into our hearts, in a clearer way than I could ever express.  The truth was that God doesn’t want us to feel poopy about ourselves.  Don’t be mean to that amazing body you have!  It was made ON purpose for a purpose.

Choose to be nice to you.  Honor yourself with your thoughts.  Feed your mirror kind things.

If you want help with this, my book is available by clicking here.

Jamberry Nails

The company Jamberry nails has a very cool concept.  Instead of waiting for what feels like eternity (at least to me) for your nails to dry, you can use these nail wraps.  They’re made from vinyl and once you know what you’re doing, it’s really easy to apply.  Even better- the wraps last for weeks.completed nails

You all know I do makeup, all day long.  Because of that, I love long-lasting, easy beauty.  I love looking great without the fuss.  I’ve found Jamberry fits in perfectly with that mentality.  They’re gorgeous and I particularly like them on my toes.

So, when Jamberry called me to speak for them, I was not very dignified on the phone.  I was so excited to have the opportunity to speak for a company that does something so cool.

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Jamberry organized an amazing show for their executive level leaders, and I brought the Hotness™ to share.  While I know you’re dying to hear the details, I can’t tell you all about it because they asked me to participate in the same show again.  I’ll be traveling with them to Orlando, Florida in January.  Jamberry treated me very well and even gave me the swag bag they gave their hardest working leaders.  All of the attendees received a copy of my book at the show.

Recently, I also spoke at “The Women Empowered Conference” put on by the Ogden/Weber Chamber.  They gave each attendee my book in the swag bag.  It’s such a thrill to be able to speak and have the attendees be able to learn more about How to Embrace their Inner Hotness!

I Killed the Little Pig…

Kids with Guinea pigI killed my kid’s guinea pig.  I didn’t mean to.

I imagine being a guinea pig can’t be too exciting- living in a little cage, walking in your own poop- and for a reason that I can’t understand- you (the guinea pig) pooped and peed in your own food bowl.  This sort of behavior doesn’t seem to bother the little pigs.  They are super cute and the kids love them.  I like them too.  I had to pick a favorite, it would be Ricky.  Ricky wasn’t prone to peeing on you like Lucy would.   Technically Ricky was girl (for better population control).  My son “owned” Ricky and my daughter “owned” Lucy.  Back to my issue— I just can’t imagine how living in your own mess in a small cage can be a good life.  

I had this dream that we portioned off an area on the front deck with chicken wire and make an enlarged enclosure for the piggies.  They could run wild, poop and pee to their heart’s content– and with weekly cleanings, such a large area wouldn’t be so bad.  Full of this vision, my daughter made little houses from boxes with doors and windows cut in.  She attached several of them with little tunnels.  We even put up a blanket for shade and as a wind breaker, and an area for the guinea pigs to hide from the Kestrel hawks in our area.  Really, we thought of everything for their comfort and happiness.  We just knew life for Ricky and Lucy was going to be awesome at the Greene house.  We brought out their little cage and opened the door to their new enclosure—one that provided almost total freedom.  We reveled in them exploring.  I thought I was rocking the mom job.Spoiled Guinea Pig

Well, evidently guinea pigs are susceptible to heat stroke— I found Ricky peacefully dead the next day.  I felt sick.  I ended up telling them that night… and tears flowed, sad bitter tears… and I remembered the pain of my cat dying when I was young (I found my cat, a dead (partially eaten) bird… and my young CSI mind deduced the cat choked on a bird bone.)  The passing of this guinea pig was the first Pet Death of my children’s life—and it was my fault!  My hubby, in just five minutes of Google-smarty-pants research discovered that guinea pigs don’t deal so well with the heat.  I didn’t even think of that when I made their awesome new home.  I thought the outdoors would be heavenly for them… Bad pun? 

That night, as midnight was approaching, I was outside with a head lamp burying our dearly departed guinea pig.  My neighbors, who were up late painting, had a horror movie moment when they looked out the window and saw me burying things in the dark of the night.

So…I killed Ricky.

pig4I couldn’t apologize to my kids enough.  They didn’t seem to blame me, but I sure felt bad.   When kids are young, a mom can kind of solve everything.  I want to protect my kids, hold them and make life as perfect as possible, while I prepare them for everything I can—and just like I tried for Ricky, I want to make a good home for them.  When I was looking out for dangers for the guinea pigs, I thought of the wind and of the small Kestrel hawks that frequent our street; and I tried to protect Ricky and Lucy from those things.  But it was what I didn’t think about—what I didn’t see as a threat—that ended up getting to Ricky.  As I held my tear-soaked kids and wondered what snot was being wiped on me, I felt guilty.  My kids are getting to the age that I can’t soothe every pain with the ease that I could when they got a stubbed toe at age three—and now, they’re old enough that I may not see what dangers are lurking for them.  The one thing I hope is that I am being a good enough mom that they will have the good sense to escape the hawks of life, and that they will ask for help when they need it.  

We all have a weakness to something.  For a guinea pig, it’s the heat (how is that possible?  They are from South America!  It’s hot there.)  For me, I like to sleep.  I love sleep— it gets in the way of getting everything I would like to accomplish done.  I also have a weakness when dealing with manipulative people.  I don’t like it.  I think I would die of exposure if I had to live in poopiness. We all have our thing. 

My daughter told me she forgave me because it was an accident and she knew I was trying to do something good.  My son told me that he was glad that Ricky didn’t suffer and he didn’t blame me either.  I guess that is the most we can do— just do our best and hope we don’t kill the tender feelings of others.  We can go through our lives and try not to cause pain purposely and when we do—we can take responsibility for it.   We can apologize, and when needed, stay up late (even when we are tired) to bury the pain we cause and ask for forgiveness.

There is something else we should learn from guinea pigs— don’t walk around in your own poop.  If you have read my book you know what I am talking about.  What does that have to do with my story?  Not much, but it’s still a pearl of wisdom. 

I should mention…we have two cats they are doing well.

Snake Cinnamon Rolls!

I’m a “working mom” and also what I call a “traditional mom”. I cook dinner, volunteer in my kids classes, and have lots of cuddle reading times!

I cook dinner almost every night because I enjoy that my family can get together and talk about the day.  And also, not starve. They like to eat regularly… they are weird that way.
Notice I didn’t say “I like to cook”. I can cook. I’m a great cook. I assume that I would even enjoy doing so if it weren’t an everyday thing!

With Pinterest these days you think you are crafty until you see what others make! Then you feel like you are failing the mommy craftiness.

Also, I live in Utah. The Capitol of Mommy Craftiness. FACT!
My daughter wanted a snake party and as we discussed her dislike of cake (Hmmm?) and her love of cinnamon rolls. A crafty mommy moment came to me!

So get ready this is my first non-makeup Pinterest-ready post!

I feel pretty awesome about these and took some pictures so you can follow along at home!

 

STEP 1:

Rhodes rolls– because making my own dough would be way over the top and over achiever-ish and who am I trying to impress?

Answer: Everyone

Step1

 

STEP 2: 

Put two rolls together like this!

Step2

 

STEP 3:

Flatten your dough with your handy-dandy pampered chef rolls thingy that you bought to make your own pizza dough.  Because you do that.  Your that domestic.

Step3

 

STEP 4:

Cut in half.  I used my chef knife so it would be a single cut.

Step4

 

STEP 5:

Mix brown sugar, sugar, and cinnamon.  If you want an exact amount go search Martha Stewart’s website.

Step5

 

STEP 6:

Smear with butter because that REALLY does make everything better.

Step6

 

STEP 7:

Sprinkle with sugar happiness and start rolling!

Step7

Now THAT’S a legit cinnamon roll!

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STEP 8:

I poked little holes because I thought it would make a cool picture. These are for the eyes!!

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STEP 9:

Cranraisen eyes! Red and very spooky.

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STEP 10:

Pan of cinnamon snake rolls!  I snipped the top of the snake dough with scissors to give it scales.  This is where I asked myself if my daughter would notice that she had the most amazing crafty mother or not.

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STEP 11:

A Cauldron of STEAMING SNAKES!!!! Ahhhhhh!!!!!!
Oh, not Halloween? Umm.. Okay, so I baked them at 350 for 18 minutes.  Because that made me feel like I was my own woman (Rhodes rolls had to many words kinda like this blog post and I saw the numbers 15 and 20).

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STEP 12:

Cream cheese frosting required.  Because cream cheese is an ingredient of happiness.

A sight that would cause Indiana Jones to squirm a tray of slithering snakes!! Just so you know they don’t actually move…

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Just so you know 21 children noticed the creativeness and ate them giddily!

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ENJOY!

Sincerely,

Leta Greene AKA: Creator of the Snake Cinnamon Roll (if someone else has done so I don’t want to hear about it I’m enjoying my creative genius moment).

Confidence

For my entrepreneur friends:

Do you have confidence in you? Do your clients? Do they believe you will take good care of them? Does your family believe in you?

Friday, I was working a Christmas boutique when a lady called my house looking for a distributor. My eleven year old son answers. He picks up the phone by saying, “This is the Greene’s. How may I help you?” Echoing what he has heard me say thousands of times, “This is Leta, how may I help you?”

The woman was desperate to purchase LipSense for her sister as a gift. She had called two other distributors (fortunately not on my team) leaving messages. None of them had called her back.

She then calls my house. She can tell that the man answering the phone is young. But he is professional and told her, “My mom is at an expo. Here is her cell phone. She is awesome and will take good care of you.” He has heard me say to clients “I will take good care of you” and more importantly he has seen me take good care of my customers.

She believed him called me and ordered several tubes of lip color. She asked if there was any way I could deliver it to her tonight. I asked if it was okay for me to drop it after my expo around 8:30 pm. She said that was great and was immensely grateful.

I called my son telling him what a great job he had done and that I would give him $7 (a large amount of money to his 11 year old economy) as a 5% commission on the sale. He was busting proud bragging to his grandparents and dad all day!

At the expo the building was cold. Very cold. The heater was not working properly. And it was only 55 degrees. I am very tired of being cold, I’m tired– and honestly feeling grumpy. Walking out I accidentally spill my tester kit of 100+ tubes of lip color, eye shadows, concealer, and foundations all over the ice. Remember, I’m tired, cold, and now I have to bend over and un-glove my hands to pick up tubes from the icy ground below. I want to cry. I don’t have the best hip and bending in the cold is the last thing I want to do. I decide not to cry. My tears may freeze.
Two wonderful men saw me struggling in the parking lot to pick up numerous items from the icy floor and came to help. Thank you to my rescuing knights! One man pointed his car lights so that we can divide my applicators, that are now dirty, to the trash, and put my testers back into my kit to be cleaned and organized later. Hopefully where it’s warm!

As I headed to the woman’s house I put on my happy face carrying in my container of inventory– Not only did she order significantly more upon seeing all the pretty colors and my impressive inventory she also purchased my book for her and as a gift for the boxes awaiting to be mailed out from her Santa’s workshop. We had a delightful conversation not only do I have a new customer I also have a new friend.

Driving home I’m still tired, still cold but with $420 extra income. I’m thinking about how remarkable my son is and it hits me he has modeled me. I’m teaching him something incredible. Old time values that seem to be forgotten of doing what I promised I would do even when it’s hard, teaching kindness, courtesy– I’m incredibly thankful as a mother that I’m an entrepreneur. Being an entrepreneur takes confidence in myself. It’s not always easy but you know life isn’t easy but the rewards are greater than the money. Don’t get me wrong I like money, the reward of involving my children in what I do and how I do it is well– priceless.

2 Dead

 

Two boys, ages 12 and 15, are dead. We read headlines everyday: shootings in schools, missing, hurt and exposed children– It is upsetting to think about. Fortunately those we love are safe, that is what we tell ourselves. We are safe. It wont happen to us. The closer the incident the more our comfort zone of safety is striped away.

My family lives in South Jordan, Utah. One of the safest states in the country and in one of the safest towns. Our neighborhood is Daybreak. It is so idealistic that they advertise picture perfect beautiful people, homes, and yards with the tag line “This is getting good”. It is good. It is Daybreak good.

Last Friday two boys were killed, the names were just released. The details of why are still not clear. Was it an accident? A suicide? We don’t know. What we do know is that mothers have lost their precious children. She will live and they are gone. It is not the right order of things to bury a child.

I know because I have buried a child. My Katelynn would be four. Her death was not an accident. It was not violent. It was her body giving out due to rare medical issues. It gnaws at me constantly, I have to choose to be happy to go forward. I find comfort that her death couldn’t be prevented. But for these two boys – Everything that went wrong could have been prevented. How does a mother deal with that? I wish I could offer her some advice that would help her! Even though I have sat by a grave site wondering how I could go on. I know that I have nothing to offer her. It is not the same. None of us really know how another person is feeling, what their experience is — Yet we think we do and we make judgments all the time. What we think we would have done, said and how strong we think we would be or not be and we don’t even really know ourselves until we are there. I hope for her that she will find the strength needed. I plead for her that judgments and hurtful comments of others will be filtered out. I pray that in her dark moments where the grief literally knocks her off her feet that she will be able to kneel and feel the guidance and comfort that only God can give. I know in those moments for me – Where breathing felt like a betrayal — that prayer helped, and helps still.

I don’t think I know them. I don’t know. One of the boys is just older than my son… I have spoken twice at the school. Was that boy in the audience? We are all wondering why and how our children will be effected. We are all wondering about the poor mothers. It is just so sad, tragic, and wrong to see a life so young… gone. We all want to think something so sad would not only never happen to us but that we will be safe from it.

When I hear about a shooting, a death far away I can offer nothing but prayers. I can send humanitarian packets.. I can donate. Now this is here in my neighborhood. I want to take food over. I want to hold her hand… and then I realize I might as well be a world away. I think I can do those things, but really if I don’t know her she doesn’t want me to hold her hand, she doesn’t want my tears. The tears of a stranger. I want to do those things to comfort me. So I can hope that her friends and family rallies to her side… you know the people she actually knows. I can go to the funeral and I hope that our neighborhood shows up in force to silently offer our support. I can donate money and may be able to take a meal over but in the end she will be hurting at times I could never touch her with comfort. When really even those close to her can’t. So we pray. I pray for her. I pray for the boys.

The day before if you had asked me where I lived I would have told you about the idealistic setting, the low crime.. now when it is closer to home. I am so aware that it is not my home. And it could be. It could be any of our homes. Even in all the perfection and care of our lives – Horrid, awful things could happen even to us. So instead of thinking, we are all safe, I hope that the one thing I could give as advice. Not to the mothers of the boys but to us: To not judge her, to not judge her boy. Because judgment is just a way we hold others away from our hearts and count ourselves blessed. It could have been, and could be our child there, dead. So we should pray and give all the love we can. And be grateful for today. 

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Nailed it!

When I was 25 years old my boss turned to me and said, “What does every woman in here have that you don’t”? I look around confused. It is 1999 in Fort Worth, Texas. I am looking at my co-workers and cant figure out what he is talking about. Finally he lets me know – it’s fake nails,they all have acrylic nails.
I don’t.
It’s my lunch break and I am supposed to do something about this. So, off to Le Nail salon I go. I was welcomed back to work as a true Texas woman.

My nail tech would regularly lecture me on what nails were to be used for and what not. They are not screw drivers and they are not scrubbers! I think if they are going to be right there at the end of your hand it seems to me that they should be used! And used and abused they were.

I am not petite of frame so I liked how they made my hands look. When my kids started coming it was hard to find the time to get to the salon and I missed far to many appointments. Due to the fact that my hands are in women’s faces all day it is easier to just have a short simple nail, very easy to take care of.

In turning 40 I walked by a nail salon and I remembered fondly the pampering of getting my nails done and I think ‘Perfect, I have time and I can commit to taking care of my nails’! I see me being better than I was in the past, I would regularly go in and my new nail tech will like me. She will not slap my hands in disapproval that I have let myself slide into using them as a flat head screwdriver. She will see me regularly now that I am grown up enough to do this! After all I am in the beauty industry, I can do this. I picked out silver glitter! Its nail shellac, its different, better and – did I mention the silver glitter? Seriously, how fun is that?!

Busy.. really busy! This is good, my business is growing and I’m in demand…my kids, hubby, dinner, responsibilities, etc. It may have been more than three weeks. Week three and I notice my nails are now officially unacceptable. I look at my schedule… there is literally no time. None! I have never heard of a nail spa open at 11:30 at night though that would be perfect for me. My nails are simply not more important to me than my hubby, kids or business.. so I officially have failed this experiment. Seriously outgrown… oh and they are now chipping at the base! Large half off side moons of missing glitter.

Driving to a networking meeting I see my damaged glittered nails reflecting. This is professional, put together and in a room full of women.. yes this is ideal.. totally not looking the part of my brand. I don’t need my nail tech to be slapping my hands, I am doing that just fine.

A lady crosses the room saying she hadn’t had the chance to meet me yet. I thank her, we are all very proper getting to talk for a moment.. she then says, “I hope this doesn’t sound odd but I saw you across the room and your skin is just radiating and you are so put together.. I wish that I looked that good.” Flattered of course, this happens a lot as my skin is (no humble way to say it) amazing. I explain that it is my job, “I am a skin care expert, makeup artist and image consultant”! Immediately she starts to point out all these things that are wrong with her.. from her hair to her toes! I laugh at the irony and say, “let me help you feel better about you!” Holding my less-than-manicured-tattered-glitter-nails in front of her face—we both laugh as we discuss how we just don’t really see the faults in others like we see the faults in ourselves. She thought I was perfect when I was sporting outgrown talons… she didn’t see them. But I did.

How often do you just let one small thing draw your focus? Others see the overall image, not the little nit picking that we are so prone to do to ourselves. I love this quote by Tina Fey:

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(If you retain nothing else, always remember the most important rule of beauty which is: who cares?)

It’s a great reminder—no one cares!! As much as we do and as long as we are radiating our beautiful smile and a kind heart we are gorgeous, radiant and perfect! And if you happen to be sporting outgrown chipping shellac well, then you can help others feel good at their granddaughter painted toe nails.

Love is …

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In college I was standing next to a male student, he was nervously shifting his weight, “can I ask you a personal question?”, he asked cautiously. His expression seemed embarrassed and I was perhaps too curious about what he needed to ask… yes, I realized he could be asking me a really personal question.. but surely I didn’t have to answer. “Sure” was my reply and he slowly leaned in and asked quietly “how to you get grass stains out of pants?”.

That was his personal question? Really.

Was laundry in his house a dirty little.. umm.. little secret? Clearly he was embarrassed that he didn’t know how to do his own laundry. This taught me two things: 1) Boys smell not because they lack interest in hygiene but because they don’t know how.
2) When I am a parent, I am going to teach my son.

My husband, the man that God has blessed me with, is clearly smarter than I am. He married me. Actually, he is smarter than me because he can do mysterious things like math. I was also impressed in meeting him that he did in fact have clean clothes being hundreds of miles from his mommy and when I rode in his car it was clean… I was smitten by these and a few other things. He was the perfect man; smart, handsome, had unquestionably good character, and he knew how to do his own laundry. He was capable. I didn’t need to train him. He came ready for life, commitment and was highly kissable (my opinion).

This moment in the picture above is my hubby helping our ten your old son Nathaniel learn how to put on his tie. It’s a simple moment. It’s a perfect moment. Our son wore his tie proudly because he did it himself and even wore his dad’s Army tie tack. He thought some might wonder if he himself was actually a veteran.

I hope to raise a son who knows how to get out his own grass stains, cook a meal, teach his son how to tie a tie, is man enough to brush his daughter’s hair, love God and respects women.

We recently had two young male guests staying in our home. One of them left porn up on the family computer.

This is against our house rules. Could it be my fault for not making such house rules clear!? Is this something I should need to clarify?

Perhaps his parents have not taught him. We are teaching our children about sex. My husband and I believe that sex is about respect, love and to make marriage a ton of fun. When I see a movie and the hero and heroine fall into bed and misplace their clothes, I feel cheated. Really, that’s love? I want my money back. That is not a romance. I am old fashioned– Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, that is a romantic story that has had countless women swooning for their own Mr. Darcy ever since. Now images sexualizing both genders are far too easy to find and we are bombarded by it in advertising, literature, internet, the list goes on… what are we teaching our children?

To me romance and love is my husband helping our son learn how to be a man, not how to use women. Teaching our daughter what it feels like to have a man respect her not just want to desire her. Romance is taking my hand as we walk, not walking off with another woman. Love is not perfect bodies together, love is not noticing my imperfect “love” placed around my middle. Love is going to work each day. Love is working on us. Love is kneeling in prayer, love is respecting me. Love is not misplaced clothes, love is folding the laundry with me. Love is letting the dirt wash away and doing dishes. Love is so much more than groans of desire and sweaty images. Love is building a life together it may not seem exciting the life Mr. Greene and I have built but we work hard, we laugh a lot, we have quiet pleasures in our lives, we like our life, we love each other. We are teaching our children that love is bigger than what you may see with your eyes, it is what you feel with your heart and what you choose. Love is bigger than our own gratification; our love has created a life, a home and is teaching our children it is worth working for.