Glittering laughter

There is no doubt in my head now that I suffered from some serious emotional trauma this year. I knew as I was living out each day that some events and betrayals were traumatic to me, but I don't think it is until now that I can look back and see that I am still in the process of healing from the trauma of upheaval in my life.

And in the exact breath - I know that it is blessed trauma. Trauma for God's glory. A complete disruption of my focused, on track, Jesus-talking, self-absorbed life into a chaotic, faith fulled, Jesus-walking, pride-stripped life. 

So much of it stands out as defining moments, and so much seems like a blur.

How do I know that I am healing? 

Last night I went to P.F. Changs. With three other girls. Three other mommas. Three other MB transplants who openly confess that they, too, are looking for friends and wanting community. Two of which go to High Rock and one "future High Rocker".

This could easily become awkward, right? I mean, with the exception of K and I, we really all just met. We all had only spent about two hours together total - and that was at Jair's party - which, let's be honest, wasn't exactly conducive to lots of adult conversation. Would conversation flow - would I be "me" when I am not even sure I know who "me" is at this point?

But in my head I was picturing a much more Sex in the City vibe. I've never actually seen that show, but I can imagine. Dark lighting and sipping from wine glasses and glittering laughter. Yes. Glittering laughter. I told K that. She "bahahahad" and then said that was the best phrase ever - and I knew - we were in for a blast.

We spent three hours - THREE HOURS - talking and sharing and laughing and crying - three hours eating off of each other's plates - cracking jokes on each other's behalf - and being FRIENDS. There was no gossiping about others, no judgement, no critiquing, no exclusion. It was fun. And beautiful. And filled with glittering laughter. It was, exactly, as I had dreamed. I said that too and sent them into fits of laughter.

I could almost hear those that have put up with me this year cheering me on. Reminding me that I am loved and that real friendships exist. And I loved each of them - and I can see how God is fitting them into my lives. 

God is starting to connect dots here in Myrtle Beach. My circle is widening and my group is tightening. I am letting God define who I am and I am reveling in the authenticity that allows in my relationships.

I can hear God reminding me that I am here for a purpose - and He has that purpose mapped out.

Maybe I am Romanticizing all of this a bit - but - it is my heart. 

Write about it!

For months people have been telling me to write about the experience my family has been going through. To chronicle the "journey of faith" in hopes that it might provide insight, help someone, or encourage (to which I often snort-laughed because most of the time I have been a doubt-filled mess).

And I've tried. I've journaled a bit. I've texted a lot. I've even opened up word press and made an account.

And everything I have written seemed so...inadequate.

Maybe I'm not ready.

Maybe it is like labor and you forget the "labor" because you are filled with your blessing.

Maybe I'm scared I will sell God short (I will.).

And maybe I'll try again. Soon.

For now, let's see if we can organize some thoughts on here.

So...it happened...and I cried!

There is no doubt I definitely enjoyed my summer. In fact, if you were one of the lucky people who ran into the boys and I at the grocery store this summer, I inevitably told you that it was the best summer of my life.

And then, it happened.

School started.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I am so thankful that I have a job when so many in this country (and so many in the education field) do not. But I thought sure this would be the  year that God opened up some mysterious bank account or add some numbers to Jon's paycheck and allow me to stay home with my boys.

I know what some (okay, most) of you are thinking: "Jess, stay home? This sounds completely unlike you."

Hey, I've changed...a lot.

But, alas, God decided that my place was back in the classroom for year 8 (or 9 - to be honest, I'm too lazy to do the math).

And so began the full swing of: wake up, go in early because you have to leave early, teach like crazy, get the boys, make dinner, work on Kids Club/laundry/finding the living room floor/loading the dishwashwer, pretend to care that the clean clothes are not put away, bathe boys, put boys in bed, resume copious amounts of housework / schoolwork that I didn't finish during the day, go to bed feeling like not enough got done, sleep, repeat.

And then I received a blog from a friend....a blog that reminded me that my place is not to perfect my home and become frustrated that that will never happen...but to praise God and be still in who He has created me to be.

And it really changed my perspective. Until the next day.

Then I read it again...and again.

I should have seen this coming...

I know, from the minute he was born I should have seen this coming.

That one day he would try to put his brother in time out.

That he would tell me he needed options when I told him it was bedtime (by the way he was not happy with the options I gave him and then said he needed more).

That he would tell me that eating 3 more bites of anything was "not an option".

That he would carry on lengthy conversations with anyone who had the time.

That his hand would seem so much bigger in my hand.

That he would leave the nursery and go into the big boy class.

and that he would require his own meal at restaurants...and be able to go to restaurants...for a very short amount of time.

Of course, I should have seen this coming, that one day JD would turn three years old, but I was so caught up in loving years 1 and 2 that I forgot he would grow up into almost a little boy and no where near a baby anymore.

Thank you God for blessing Jon and I with this incredible person in our lives. I pray that we can be the examples he needs to follow You completely. I hope one day he is able to see the impact and joy he has brought to our lives and the lives of those around him.

Happy Birthday JD!

That's my jam!

I have been known to listen to my music loudly. Much louder than one should listen to Celine Dion...a more acceptable level for some heavy metal or non-understandable rap groove (of which I cannot list specific artists, I apologize).

In fact, I have convinced Jon that there is a volume fairy that gets into my car (ahem, minivan) after I get home and turns up the volume so that when he gets in it is really loud. This has worked in making him realize it is not my fault. Sort of.

Today, on our way to a church even, KLove was playing an extremely great set of music. No calming church tunes here, they were ROCKIN' church tunes (haha). Last, but certainly not least for reasons that will soon be clear, was a classic by Toby Mac.

Now, those who know me well, know that I love all things Toby Mac. Odd, given my typical preference in music, but true nonetheless.

This caused even more volume, definite head bobbing, arm waving, Jair wiggling in his car seat and JD clapping (a little off beat).

We sang our hearts out. Yes, my children know Toby Mac.

We pulled into the church parking lot, listened to the rest of the song (still jammin' by the way) and enjoyed ourselves. When done I turned to JD and said, "That's my JAM!"

I know. That is an odd thing for me to say. I don't typically speak in such language with my children. But in interest of exposing them to multiple dialects I feel it is my responsibility to already give them reasons to roll their eyes at me.

I thought it was only fair to share the moment further by asking my almost-three-year-old if it was, in fact, his jam.

He thoughtfully looked at me and replied, "No."

"Oh?" I questioned. "What is your jam?"

"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

You can't make this stuff up.

Grocery Store...

I have a lot of great grocery store mishaps. Most of them include the teller asking me if I am paying with food stamps or my children singing to other customers at the top of their lungs...but today's was just a chapter out of WHAT?!

We shop for a month at a time - perhaps more about that later - and Jon and I have always done it together. It requires two carts and lots of lists - it is just easier to divide and conquer - the list and the toddlers.

Today I decided to do all of the monthly shopping by myself - well, with said toddlers in tow. My goal was to get as much off of the list as possible while still leaving JD room to "sit on his bottom" (a phrase I utter 100 times while perusing the shelves of my local superstore).

I ran into a woman who I used to have a lot of contact with. Because of a change in careers - hers, not mine - I no longer see her. It was great to "catch up" - and by great I mean extremely stressful trying to fill her in on all that is going on now while making sure toddler one didn't bite through the deodorant (again) and toddler two didn't pull the swiffer sweepers off of the shelf on top of toddler one.

She asked to be introduced to the boys - I introduced JD first. He was wearing a "Big Brother" shirt. She asked if he was the big brother - he said "No, I'm JD." Then he told her about the dinosaur that was hiding near the milk. Entertaining. Then, I braced for it.

I realize when one names her child 'Jairus' they must accept that it is uncommon and most will pronounce it incorrectly given the first attempt. This is not usually the case when I say the name first...but...

Me: This is Jairus.
Lady: Oh, hi Jared! Aren't you adorable.
Me: His name is Jairus. It is a name from the Bible.
Lady: JARus, I've never heard of it.
Me. JAIRus. (insert story of Jairus from the Bible).
Lady: Oh, well it doesn't really matter.

What? It doesn't really matter that you call my child the correct name? After I introduce him three times?

Me: Oh, okay, See you later then Betty.
Lady: Oh, my name is ----- (I'll give you a hint - it isn't Betty)
Me: I know. I thought correct names didn't matter.

Yes, I know my Southern friends are cringing...but seriously, sometimes people just need to hear it.

Potty training

So I hired someone to potty train my child. No, I am not rich or famous. No, I do not have a full-time, live-in nanny. But I did have a beach trip coming up and a BF I consider a child-whisperer...so I gave it a shot. She succeeded...and JD is just about there.

Minus the pooping.

And he peed on me last night.

We may have a longer way to go than I thought... But it is amazing what Thomas undies and some candy will do to motivate my almost three year old!