| My Inner Hippie vs. Mrs. America |
[Oct. 10th, 2006|08:38 pm] |
Lately I've been doing some thinking. A lot of changing has gone on in my heart and I've been spending hours of thought in the kind of example I want to be for Summer. What kind of woman do I want to be?
I recently read this passage from a study bible talking about how Michelangelo spent years of his life creating the magnificence that is the Sistine Chapel. He would spend days suspended in the air with some bread and a portable urinal using miniature brushes to paint fine details on his cherubims and trees. Paint dripped into his eyes, his hands neck and back cramped from the work. Finally he completed a masterpiece and felt pleased. Breathtaking is hardly the word to describe his work on the Sistine Chapel. Now imagine a delinquent taking a can of spray paint to Michelangelo's creation.
I think that is a little like what we do to God's creation today. On the large scale, we give ourselves new breasts, plump up our lips and suck out a little bit of thigh. On the smaller scale, we cover our beautifully and perfectly made faces with "spray paint", shave our legs (the hair was put there for a reason) and dye our hair every color in the rainbow. We can't perfect on perfection, but we sure as hell try. Aren't we just destroying creation? Am I being extreme here? Part of me wants to embrace my inner hippie and start seeing things as beautiful just the way they are.
Then there's Mrs. America. Did you even know there was a Mrs. America pageant? Well there is. I've done some research and I secretly want to be Mrs. America. Actually, I REALLY want to be Mrs. America. I want to have my teeth whitened, get some invisalign done to perfect my smile, start ballet again to improve my posture and get me back into shape and maybe have some work done on the breasts. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I'm buying into the rules of our society. I really want to embrace my inner pageant queen, wear the beaded silk gown and earn that Mrs. America tiara while proudly claiming that my husband has fought for "world peace".
So which of my alter egos wins on this one? Is there a way for my inner hippie and my pageant princess to live in harmony? I feel like I have a shoulder angel (the hippie) and a shoulder devil (the tiara). One screams humility, peace, harmony; the other cries pride and selfishness. Can I be both? Can I be an earth loving, God fearing, barefoot, bare faced, all natural Mrs. America?
This world is so off balance. I am so off balance.. |
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| The Truth Behind a Military Life |
[Oct. 4th, 2006|03:59 pm] |
People are fooled into thinking the military will do a good job of providing your family with their needs if you choose to join. That is, in fact, the most perfect example of false advertising I have ever seen. In no way do the benefits outweigh or even supliment the sacrifices families in the military have to make. Family readiness groups are a complete joke and utter waste of hope. Salaries are undesirable at best (unless you're an officer) and even the health insurance isn't as fool proof as they claim. The truth is, our soldiers leave their spouses at home dealing with the burdens and joys of the family, while they deal with the burdens of another country's government. My husband doesn't make enough money to be fighting a worthless cause. Yes he knew what he was getting into, but he was led to believe there would be benefits. Riiiight. He had better benefits working as the night manager at Safeway. Shoot, I had better benefits working for a dance studio when I was still in high school.
The bottom line here: I hate that Ryan is in Iraq. I hate that he is not here with me. And I hate that our soldiers aren't making the slightest dent in that country.
Let us take a minute to lick the sugar coating off how I really feel about things. Why are we trying to reconstruct the government of these peoples who are just sitting around laughing at our futile attempts to turn the world into a democracy? This world will never be a democracy. There will always be some world terrorist threatening to nuke the planet and kill every living creature. Why does this have to be our battle? Can't we take a break for a couple decades and let someone else fight for a while? What about Canada or Australia? Why don't they start building up some armies and stop terrorism from taking over the world?
Maybe Hillary will bring our boys home. Maybe a woman president is just what we need to turn our eyes to the homestead for a while. We need to fix a few things here before we go out and continue trying to fix other houses. Maybe she can do that.
HILLARY FOR PRESIDENT 2008!
(maybe thats the feminist coming out in me, but I'll probably vote for her if she runs) |
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| Nine Months |
[Sep. 29th, 2006|06:03 am] |
Today I have been married for nine months. I was reflecting back on an earlier journal entry about not having a huge and fabulous wedding with all the bells and flowers and whistles. A gals wedding is supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life. Was the day I got married one of the happiest days of my life? It was a good day for sure, but since that day I've had at least ten days that are better. It seems like every day with Ryan is better than the last. We have our challenges, but you'll be hard pressed to find a couple without challenges.
The way I see it, you can have a happy wedding and an outrageous honeymoon and then wake up a week later only to find that the fairy tale is over and marriages need work. Maybe Ryan and I didn't plan the perfect wedding, but I've never spent a day with my husband that I didn't enjoy. I love spending time with Ryan. I covet that time while he's away and the only cause of distress in our marriage is the fact that we can't be together right now. Every day with Ryan is the best day of my life, so I really didn't need that whole fairy tale shebang! I'd rather do it the way we did it (in jeans and nice shirts) and have everyday be better than the last than wake up from a dreamy honeymoon period and find out life is a bed of pink daffodils.
I love my husband... I loved the day we got married because we made a promise to stick it out no matter what and that is exactly what we are doing. I love that we are stronger together than we are apart and I love knowing that we are rooted and established in a real love rather than a fairy tale princess love.
Happy 9 month anniversary Ryan! I love you!!! |
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| Touched by the Hands of the Artist |
[Sep. 28th, 2006|06:17 pm] |
Lately I've really enjoyed this life. I found this fabulous church in town and have joined a small group and a women's bible study. I really like the women; all of them are very welcoming and, like me, they are all hopelessly flawed, but willingly to admit it. I love that.
(Okay, so its Summer's bed time right now. As I type this, she is in her bed making strange noises that sound somewhat like choking, but a little like fussing. I think she is okay, but it is stressing me out. We both have runny noses today so I think we are having allergies.)
Anyway, all the women I've met are so beautiful inside and out. I feel like I hear a lot of talk about diets and weight loss. I hate the whole fight with body image. Why can't we all just work really hard on our insides and then our outsides will automatically reflect our hearts? Why can't a beautiful woman, who may have an extra five to ten pounds, look at her reflection and see the beauty God has created in her? It is a slap in God's face when we stare at ourselves and judge. It is like we are attacking his most delicate and prized work of art by looking at ourselves and thinking, "uuuuughhhh". I am guilty as charged.
I feel the need to encourage women to see that they are beautifully and wonderfully made. Not just the women I meet in church, but every woman. It is an unfair struggle women should not be fighting. We ARE beautiful. We ARE strong. We were the last thing God created... the Cherry atop his perfect ice cream sundae. We are a cherished work of art that men should appreciate. First, however, we women need to start appreciating our uniqueness and aestethic value.
I'll start.
Hello, my name is Ashley Lynn Dykes. I am pretty. I have stretch marks and loose belly skin coloring my body with the pride and beauty only a woman can attain. My best and most stunning accessory is attached at my over-sized hips where she sits and spits regularly. I love my body because it is fully functional and it reflects the work of greatness. I have been touched and shaped by the hands of an artist. I am pretty. My heart is pretty. My face is pretty. And yes, even my thighs that chaffe as they rub together are pretty.
Your turn to be pretty. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 20th, 2006|02:44 pm] |
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I'd like to pretend that I'm glad we didn't have a big old wedding with bells and pink daffodils and a drop down disco ball as a surprise at the reception, but the truth is, I'm sad we didn't. I've been holding it in for so long... there it is... I'm sad we didn't have a fancy shmancy fun and fabulous wedding with me in an unconventional but drop dead gorgeous wedding gown and lillies in my hair. I'm sad about it okay. I've said it. To date it is my only regret. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 19th, 2006|08:21 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  restless | ] |
Mostly I can deal with Ryan being in Iraq. I'm generally not bothered when he escapes certain death by a margin because he did escape. I don't mind hearing about the gaping abdominal wounds he has treated in the middle of a hot, dry desert. That I can handle. What gets me is that he is there and not here. I have needs too you know. Needs that only my husband can meet. No, not help around the house or time to myself. I need those insatiable inner appetites to be fed... that is what sucks most about Iraq. I think Ryan would agree with me on this one. I can't imagine how hard this must be for him if I am going as crazy as I am. Its not right to deprive a wife of her husband for this long. Its just not right. I'm doing the best I can with chocolate right now. (It totally ruins my LGN diet, but what the hell... it works) |
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| These Things Do Happen |
[Jul. 30th, 2006|12:30 pm] |
I have a crick in my neck today.
Summer has a fever today.
Riker tore up some paper and tossed it around the house.
I have one friend here and she is scandalous in a bad way (she cheats on her husband while he is overseas) and she is a bad friend. She's never been over to my house, I always go there. She's lame, but my only friend anyway.
I'm tired.
I'd like a pizza, but I'm on the LGN diet (that stands for "look good naked") so I can't have a pizza.
Riker just found his orange squeeky bone toy and it is driving me crazy.
My neighbors are grilling fajitas and other good mexican food and it smells delicious and I really want some.
A bottle lid fell to the bottom of my dishwasher and melted onto the heating element. Now I can't use my dishwasher until it is fixed.
Lame.
I have to go cook dinner for my lazy cousin now.
Lame. |
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| The Curious Incident of The Crazy Woman Lady |
[Jul. 25th, 2006|08:21 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  amused | ] |
Its been a while since I've posted anything on Livejournal. I feel really bad...like I sold out to myspace. Well, myspace kinda sucks lately. It takes forever to load, there are too many people on occassion and well, its just not that great really. I'm sorry livejournal. I really do love you. Onto the incident...
I was at H.E.B. (its the only grocery store in Central Texas other than Walmart) when a crazy lookin' lady stopped to look at my baby girl. She oooohed and aaaaaahed at how beautiful my girl is and started talking about her own children when they were babies. Then I started walking a little and she followed me. Down the bread isle we went and back up the latin foods section. I really wasn't paying attention to her. In fact I didn't realized she was following me until I was ready to check out. Apparently she had been chatting with me throughout the majority of my trip through the store. Finally, I realized this, turned around and asked her if she had been following me this whole time. She turned a little red and started to walk away. Then I felt bad, got her phone number and now I have a new friend in Texas.
Texas is really wierd.
I feel wierd lately.
I'm wearing my skinny jeans.
Also, I sell Mary Kay now.
Summer can hold her bottle.
And she plays with toys.
Life really is fabulous these days. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 31st, 2006|09:29 pm] |
Once I wrote this poem inspired by the scent of wet garden bark after a cold, heavy rain. I love the smell of wet bark. It is sweet, refreshing, hopeful.
I haven't felt inspired for a while. Quite the opposite. I feel a dark empty space clouding my mind where creativity and color used to live. My time, thoughts and dreams are fleeting. I am consumed lately with how I can "be a better mother" "be a better wife" "be better at living" or "stop sucking at life".
I've cried for three nights now. Feelings of exhaustion or depression only make me feel guilty. I look at my baby who needs me to be at my best and I am overwhelmed with guilt because I am NOT at my best.
I really have no one here. If I need something fixed around the house, I can call Ryan's friend Bill. But my only other friend here is one of those taking type friends who will drain you of all your energy and give back the minimal amount of herself in order to keep you around. And because I'm a "yes" man, I feel bad telling her "no".
So I have no help. I have no one but a two month old baby girl and a funny littly puppy who must have sensed some sadness from me because he just ran over here from tearing up a clean baby diaper to jump in my lap and lick my face. Despite his best efforts, I still feel like giving this world a big middle finger and then crying myself to sleep.
Shoot I think my family could have done better than me. |
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| A Loss of Sanity |
[May. 25th, 2006|08:03 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | help me | ] |
Last night Summer didn't fall asleep until midnight and then she woke up every hour until 6am where she slept until 9am. As soon as she fell asleep, the puppy woke up biting my feet. Will I ever get to sleep again?
I also lost my keys yesterday. I tore the house apart looking for them this morning so that I could go check the mail. I gave up and fell to the floor crying (it was a dramatic scene one might find in a daytime soap) only to find my keys underneath a package of baby wipes. Now my house is trashed.
Speaking of daytime soaps, I've been watching "A Guiding Light". Lizzy Spalding is pregnant with Jonathan's baby. She's telling every one that the baby is Coup's. Coup has stepped up to the plate because he is a good guy and is sacrificing his love for Eva. Eva loves him too, but she understands his responsibilities as a father...even though he's really not the father. So Lizzy is now a home breaker. I've officially become pathetic.
I haven't showered in a few days. Three days to be exact. Also, I really need a hair cut, but don't see how possible that is with a small baby and a puppy. So I've also become officially disgusting. Did I mention my eyebrows need to be plucked?
Now I'm sitting on the couch with a sleeping baby in my arms, staring blankly at the wall in front of me and wondering when my life will feel calm again. |
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| Ashley Dykes or June Cleaver? |
[May. 21st, 2006|01:39 pm] |
The other day I was thinking about housewives or "homemakers" as many prefer to be called. A good look at TV homemakers illustrates a woman who happily enjoys cleaning house, flipping pancakes for the kids before school, volunteering for bake sales and having dinner ready for her husband when he walks in the door. Not only is dinner ready, but she looks good, the kids are washed and smell clean, the dog is fed and clean, and she has more energy than a puppy on crack. Also, she has a super smile on her face.
Ummmm, let me tell you something... June Cleaver is sweet, but not real. Lets look at some real housewives:
Gloria Hensley has 13 month old twin girls and a Bassette Hound named Lucy. Gloria wakes up about 7am, makes coffee, enjoys a smoke outside and lets the girls play in their cribs until they start screaming. She feeds the girls breakfast, washes their faces and gets them dressed for the day. The three of them play together and with the dog until about 10 when the girls go down for a nap. While they either sleep or scream, Gloria gets the time to clean her house. By the time she's done the girls are awake. She changes their diapers, feeds them lunch and they play until dinner, get ready for bed at 7 and Gloria can finally breathe. But usually she doesn't. Usually she has to pick up her house again and eat dinner herself. Then she MAYBE gets a shower but maybe not because sleep sounds better. Gloria's husband is in Iraq so instead of having four hands to run the house, there are only two. She is tired...couldn't muster the energy to work out if she wanted to and never gets to make a REAL dinner for herself.
Now take me, Ashley Dykes. My husband is also serving in Iraq right now. I have a 6 week old baby girl and a puppy named Riker. I wake up whenever the baby cries (usually several times a night) and start my day around 5am. At seven I take the puppy for a walk with the baby in a frontpack and feed him. Every two or three hours I feed the baby. Every two or three hours I take the puppy out to pee. When the baby sleeps I play with the puppy or lock him out on the balcony so I can clean house or do laundry. Recently I went somewhere and put Riker in the kitchen with a baby gate up. I came home with a crying baby to a house that was absolutely trashed. Riker sat at my feet, wagging his tail with a diaper in his mouth. There was no smiling, no energy, I didn't look pretty, the baby was poopy, my house was trashed and I skipped dinner that night.
I think I could take June Cleaver if I wanted to. Her environment is perfect, so she never has to freak out because nothing frustrating ever happens in her world. She's a pansy really. If it came down to who the better woman is, its definitely me. Good old June would have a nervous breakdown or something. The fact that I can retain my sanity, and maintain this household is a testament to my character. I think Gloria could wail on June if she wanted to. The fact that she is able to keep sparkle in her eye is beyond me.
June Cleaver...you're going down bitch. |
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| Families |
[Apr. 26th, 2006|06:56 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  jubilant | ] |
So my husband had never seen "Pretty Woman". I couldn't believe it. Everyone has seen that movie. Its like "The Breakfast Club", everybody has seen it several times because it always plays on TNT on Friday nights. I had to remedy the situation, so I bought the special edition DVD. Tonight Ryan got off work early and we decided to get take out from a little shit-hole Mexican restaurant with REAL, AUTHENTIC mexican food. (thats the thing about Texas...there is yummy shit-hole Mexican food on every corner.) So we sat on our new furniture in front of our 50" flat screen plasma T.V. and ate mexican food and watched "Pretty Woman". (thats the thing about the army...you can afford $2000 T.V.s because you get hazard pay.) About half way through the movie I stopped watching Julia Roberts and started watching my family. It was so sweet. Summer lay sleeping on Ryan's chest with her tiny mouth slightly open and one chubby cheeck smashed against her daddy while I lay comfortably inside his nook. I couldn't help but smile. Ryan sat there, with his family in his arms, watching "Pretty Woman" after a long day of playing GI Joe. It was the sweetest moment. I loved it. Watching us made the late night feedings and crying fits worth it to me. I think I needed that moment more than I need air. I've been so tired of falling at Summer's beck and call without any help until 6 or 7 at night. I've been so tired of having nobody to call for support, nothing to solve the 30 minutes of crying and absolutely NO sleep for 40 hours. I'm tired of feeling like a failure as a wife because I haven't made dinner for my husband and I haven't made our bed in a week and I certainly look nasty when he gets home. But tonight, in my husband's nook with our pretty little girl content on his chest, I felt a rush of joy that was better than air or water after an iron man.
But now the baby is crying so my entry is cut short....maybe we'll watch another movie tomorrow night. |
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| Real Life Kid Games |
[Apr. 17th, 2006|08:10 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  exhausted | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Iron and Wine (just trying them out) | ] |
So this morning I realized, as my husband was getting ready for work, that our lives have become the realization of a child's imaginary play time. Ryan, for example, puts on his camo gear and heavy boots and heads off to play with heavy artilery for the day. He patches up injured soldiers, shoots guns, and prepares for battle. Its a little boy's dream come true. My day is quite different. I make some breakfast for Ryan, hold the baby, feed the baby, change the baby's diaper, pick up the house, dabble in the kitchen, etc. Its like playing house or dolls only for real.
Play time and real life are a little different though. Ryan's going to Iraq. I'll be playing "house" by myself for 6 months. "War" isn't a kid's game any more. While I enjoy my position as "homemaker", it would be much nicer if I had some company and a little help now and then.
So far today I have fed my husband, fed my daughter, changed her diapers and watched "The Munsters" on TVLand. By the time I was ready to feed myself, it was time to feed Summer again. So now I'm devouring an apple and watching some TV before she wakes up ready to eat again.
Its only 10:30.
7 hours till Ryan gets home.
I'm tired.
I need a nap. |
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| Speechless, Breathless, Completely Taken |
[Apr. 16th, 2006|06:30 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | ecstatic | ] |
Nine months of physical and emotional instability...
24 hours of labor, two epidural refills (only to find the drugs wore off before 3 hours of pushing)...
Complete exhaustion...
Prodding hands (lots of them)...
Hunger, thirst, pain, anxiety, fever, shivers, more pain...
And I would do it all over again with thrice the amount of trouble.
She is the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on. Her sweet breath, soft skin and insatiable appetite for snuggling have left me speechless, breathless and completely taken. She is perfect in every way. Nothing in this world has given me more joy than her. I've held her in this world for 10 days and it feels like an eternity.
The stretch marks...worth it!
The pudding like belly...worth it!
The lack of sleep...worth it!
She's absolutely beautiful.
Welcome to this world Summer Joy Dykes! |
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| A Day in the Life |
[Mar. 24th, 2006|09:32 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  weird | ] |
My husband is making an attempt at fried eggs.
The suicide bird is here again this morning.
I watched "Good Morning America".
If I ever had a cat, I think I would name it Elanor Rigby.
I don't really like cats though; I like dogs.
I'd like to have a dog named Dorothy... or Sebastian.
Today we're going to rent a UHAUL trailer.
We're also going out to lunch somewhere.
Mmmmmm....lunch.
There's a workout video on T.V. right now.
I wish I could go for a run... 3 weeks and I'll be on my feet again.
But then the food won't be as good.
Maybe I'll name the bird Elanor Rigby. |
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| Hobbit Feet and ALL THAT JAZZ |
[Mar. 23rd, 2006|09:13 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  Life is great. | ] |
Today is lovely. It is overcast in Selah and the air is brisk. There is a bird who keeps flying at top speed right into the family room window. He's been on this suicide mission for a couple mornings now. Its the same bird every morning for a few hours or so. Two days ago I just watched him the whole time. He disappears for a minute then comes charging at the window until.....BAM. He pecks vigorously at the glass for five minutes or so and then diasappears, only to repeat the process a few minutes later. What an idiot bird. But he's so freakin' funny. I think I'll call him Lazarus. Life is funny.
Anyway, this morning I was listening to James Blunt and watching my husband get ready for the day. He ironed his uniform, shined his boots, put some crazy black stuff on these pins that are already black and then asked me, "Are you listening to Shakira?" James Blunt...Shakira...same thing to a G.I. JOE. And you know what, his boots look exactly the same after shining them for three hours as they did before he even started. He's convinced you can see your face in them. Maybe it was the lighting or something, but I couldn't see my face. So I just said, "WOWEEE! These sure are shiny. Look, there's my face." I think he sensed my early morning sarcasm because the boots and my husband disappeared. But I was laughing because life is funny.
Yesterday my feet were so HUGE that I looked like a little hobbit woman or something. Between the edema and my clumsy habbit of dropping tables (or other heavy objects) on my feet.... poor little fellas don't stand a chance. Sometimes I look down at my feet to check their size and then just bust up laughing. Wouldn't you laugh if all of a sudden your feet were three times the size they normally are? Its hilarious. I have cankles. And cankles are funny.
So today I'm just laughing about life. I'm laughing because the suicide bird who should be dead is still flinging his body into the window. Also I'm laughing because my husband is really funny and he doesn't even know it. But mostly I'm laughing because cankles are the funniest things in the world. Just the word "cankle" is funny. Its like the word "potty"...you can't say it without smiling.
Thats all. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 4th, 2006|09:00 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  tired | ] |
We had a fight.
I don't feel very good. |
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| Lacking Motivation |
[Mar. 3rd, 2006|11:33 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | sweet | ] |
I'm sitting here trying to talk myself into taking the short walk to the post office and mailing a care package to my husband. I don't really want to go out for a walk though. I keep thinking of ways to make it fun and exciting. I could stop at The Selah Sandwich Shop on my way there and buy a cookie or something (they make terrible sandwiches). There's a little floral shop not too far from the post office and it might be fun to stop there for a quick browse. I could walk into the hair salon on the way and get a trim or do something crazy to my hair...but I think people might find it disturbing to see a pregnant woman with crazy hair. Lunch at El Caporal would be nice, but who wants to dine alone? I don't know anybody who has the day off today to join me for lunch. Its only about 5 minutes to the post office from here and there is a lot to do on the way. Like go to the Bavarian Bakery...okay... SOLD. I'm off to the post office and then to the Bakery!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S. The owner makes the BEST pasteries in the world...well at least I think...I've never been to a French patisserie, so I don't know if they're the BEST in the world, but probably they are. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 2nd, 2006|01:26 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  hungry | ] |
This morning I ate some whipped vanilla frosting right out of the container with my finger.
I'm not sure if that is gross or not. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 2nd, 2006|01:26 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | hungry | ] |
This morning I ate some whipped vanilla frosting right out of the container with my finger.
I'm not sure if that is gross or not. |
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ashbeam's journal