Star Dater: Tracey Bateman!

Join me in welcoming inspirational romance author Tracey Bateman as she shares her true-love story, "You Had me at OUCH."

-------------------------------

Okay, here’s the thing. I don’t support violence. I think a woman should conduct herself in a proper manner at all times—“proper” being relative, of course. Men and women should keep their backhanded whacks to themselves. And while I’m on the subject, let me just say that it would be a lot easier for a woman to stick to this lesson in decorum if men should just keep their mouths shut when it’s obvious said woman is in distress.

But I digress.

Love begins in many different ways. You have your “saw each other across a crowded room” love story. Then there’s the “Blind date” scenario which I believe should probably be included in the “internet dating” category just to be concise. There’s always the “met at AA” couple who are on the wagon and loving it. Then there’s the more volatile type. The type of couple where, it was annoyance at first sight. And not in a sexy, you annoy me let’s make out kind of way either. I mean the kind of annoyance where you just hope the other person walks off a cliff and breaks a bone.  (At this point let me remind you that I’m not normally a proponent of violence. But there is a message here).

That’s how my relationship with Rusty began. I was 18 and working as a babysitter in a health club. Why a babysitter at 18? Well, I got a free gym membership, of course and only had to work 25 hours a week. I was one of those…

Mom’s night out—first time two year old, adorable, curly-headed cherub had ever been away from her. And he was beautiful. I just knew we’d be friends immediately. The problem with assigning titles like “cherub” to a child who is blissfully unaware he’s about to be ripped from his mother’s arms and given to a stranger for God-knows-how-long, is that the cherub turns to the dark side rather quickly and becomes a demon child.

That’s what happened to me this night. And for the record. I am the youngest of seven children. I was raised with certain expectations, such as always getting my way and other people naturally behaving the way I expect—or else. I believe I make that expectation clear from the beginning. There’s no guesswork involved. 

The cherub obviously didn’t get this…the screaming began almost immediately and continued—at various decibels—for approximately 20 minutes when I grabbed the boy—let’s just call him Damian—and walked silently through the nursery, out the door, through the office area, down the hallway, through the weight room where several muscle-bound Arnold wannabes flexed side by side with the fifty-year-olds with recently diagnosed high blood pressure trying to keep up and suck in.

I knocked on the aerobics room and didn’t wait for an answer. Walked in, walked right up to the mother and handed her the child. I tried to smile and shrug it off, but at 18 years old I had yet to perfect my insincere smile (I have, however, perfected that in the 20 years since).

Now we’ll come to the point. My pulse is beginning to lower as I walk back through the weight room. After all, the hiccupping, teary-cheeked child is safely with the frazzled mother who loves and deserves him. I’m still mad about the lack of attention given to my expectation, however, when this…this…this….GUY speaks to me as I walk by. It would have been okay if he’d have said something like, “Wow I don’t know how you stood it that long,” or “Great job, way to go not throwing that one against a freaking wall,” or anything that might be recognized as a compliment or a soothe. Instead!!!!! He says, “Not good with kids, are ya?”

My inner battle-goddess emerged and without looking him I backhanded his sweaty, thin-tee-shirted chest and continued my trek, out the weight room door, up the hallway, through the office area, and back to the daycare room where other children sat, unattended but not daring to make a noise.

Days later we were dating and within 7 months we were married. Nineteen years and four kids later, I’m glad he insulted me, glad I finally agreed to go out with him (after a lot of Yeah right, buds).

To this day, he gives me crap when I take myself too seriously and let things get to me. Rusty is my best friend. Honestly. I’m glad he didn’t walk off a cliff. But when our own curly-headed, AHEM cherub was born, Rusty was the only one that could soothe him. ☺ Maybe I’m NOT good with kids.

---------------------------------

Tracey Bateman is the award-winning author of more than twenty-five books, including Defiant Heart, the First in the Westward Hearts series. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and recently served on the board as President. She loves in Lebanon, Missouri, with her husband and their four children.

The Westward Hearts series tells the stories of three strong women as they struggle to survive on the rough wagon train and lose their hearts to unlikely heroes along the way. Think Little House on the Prairie meets Francine Rivers’ Redeeming Love and you begin to get a sense of the riveting historical series that Tracey Bateman has created. In this second installment, Distant Heart, we follow Toni Rodden, a former prostitute who sought to escape her past and build a new life, and a new reputation, when she joined the wagon train. Will the promise of a new life out west heal the scars of Toni's past?

P.S.: If you missed Tracey's interview for "The 12 Authors of Christmas," read it here.

Comments

[Carla]

Tracey, you are hilarious. I'm a first born and know about expectations--everyone should think the way I do and do what I say. My fourth child came a few years after the first three, and he is exactly the way you described yourself. From an early age, he expected people to goo and gaw over him and heed his every command. At 23, not much has changed. Thankfully, he has a sweet, teachable nature--like you--and is a delight. Loved your romance story! Merry Christmas.

[PatriciaW]

I'm a "baby of the family" too so I get the whole expectations thing.

"I’m glad he didn’t walk off a cliff." I'm taking it this one was on your, uh, tamer suggestions for Rusty before acquiesing?

[Lacy J. Williams]

Great post and what a great story to tell for generations.

[Janet Dean]

Loved your story, Tracey! I'm a middle child. I think I missed out.

[Rachel Hauck]

Great story, friend!

Love, Rachel

[Mary Connealy]

Great story, Tracey, and you did the right thing with the kid. I had a crying baby in the church nursery once and did everything I could think of to keep the screaming kid in the nursery and happy for one hour. Well, I kept her in, but only because she was small. Her mother must have either heard the screaming all the way in the church or just come out to check but there was her crying child pressed flat against the door and well, you know, I just felt like such a jerk. Like I'd kidnapped her or something.
I wish to this day I'd gone for MOMMY.