Oh Happy Day!

I turned 31 today! That sounds really old. And I have two (almost) kids and a mortgage. I can't believe I'm "in my 30s"...feels weird to say. I've heard folks say that they would do anything to go back to high school (um, vomit?!) or college (nope), but I can honestly say that I am completely content right where I am.

This summer, I found myself walking through our yard in the heat, following a toddler son, dodging dogs, and toting around a robust belly. I had a momentary thought: "Wow, so this is my life....sweaty, pregnant, and working to pay the bills". I remember when I wasn't sure if I wanted kids. And I planned to live in a big city. (I have since learned that I am a country girl at heart.) And I was going to travel, travel, travel! I quickly realized, however, that I am truly happy where I am. Sweaty and pregnant, working hard, and seemingly tired alot of the time....doesn't matter. There's a quote from a Jack Johnson song that sums it up perfectly:

We got everything
We need right here
And everything we need is enough.
Just so easy...when the whole world fits inside of your arms
Don't really need to pay attention to the alarm...

My whole world DOES fit in my arms. Maybe not all at once, but my "world" consists of Chris, T, baby girl, parents, and dogs. I would live in a box with all those things and be okay. I would miss my bed and tv. And my coffee maker. Okay, so it would have to be a big box. And a box with electricity :)

Seriously, what a day full of blessings straight from God. Trafton woke up in a happy mood and invited me to join him in his crib. Why, of course I'd love to haul my huge self over the side of your crib to snuggle. Don't mind if I do. After a few minutes together, I took him to Miss Angela's house, only to discover a homemade "happy birthday" sign on the door from their family and flowers waiting for me inside.

When I got to school, I found out that Debbie had gone above and beyond to celebrate this day with our grade level. After leaving her house at 5:40 am (yes, that early), she went to Krisy Kreme, Bojangles, and even had a coffee ready for me when I walked in to school. That's what I'm talking 'bout :)

Several sweet cards from friends and students, texts and voicemails from special people. And finally, a yummy dinner with some of my very favorite people in the world. I'm so encouraged by the kindness shown to me today; hopefully I can pay it forward.

I haven't had time to write much recently, but today just felt like one of those days. SO much to celebrate- little things and bigger things...

First off, today is a special day. My "FMM" (Fort Mill Mama) turns 25! Um, yes, math folks, I'm kidding about the age. But Debbie's birthday is today and I can't wait to celebrate her. I know that on Sept. 5th, God thought to himself, I need a spunky, kind-hearted, uber-generous lady who is beautiful inside and out. And then he created my assistant.

One of my kindergarten mamas from last year came to visit yesterday. It was so nice to look up and see her happy face in my room! She popped in just to say "hi" and to tell us that she would come help us if she had the time. Nevermind copying and all that mess- I was just glad to see her. I have gotten the sweetest emails and texts from other mamas- just checking in on our family and on baby girl's arrival.

We still don't have a name for the baby that's on the way, speaking of which. Doesn't sound like something to celebrate, but it IS to me. I've always been a control-freak. It's entertaining and abnormal for me to laugh at the fact that I am almost 34 weeks pregnant and I don't even know her name yet. With Trafton, I had prayed for him by name and had every little thing ready. With this sweet baby, I just feel a sense of peace. She WILL come, she WILL be loved by our family, and she WILL be taken care of. Maybe we'll give her a name when we see her precious face.

After the torrential rainstorm last night, a water main broke in Fort Mill. So...no water = day off for us! Only a few days in to the school year, and already we are given the gift of a day off. (Or cursed with a 'make up day', depending on how you look at it.) Personally, I'm glad to be home with my little boy and my big boy. We have stuff to clean and errands to run; I'm happy to do them, as long as I'm with my boys.

Trafton is learning his letters. When we ask him what his name starts with, he shouts out "T!" He also told me that daddy started with D. Granted, those may be the only two letters he knows. But I can live with that. We're still working on saying "please" and "thank you". BUT- he has learned "please" in sign language and he's using it when he asks for something. And imagine my amazement when I went to wipe his nose the other day and he blew. That's right- blew his nose into the tissue! Ahh, the little victories are so sweet. He's a smart cookie (and a darn cute one at that).

Last, but not least, my husband is the man. He met me at the car yesterday with an umbrella when I got home and said he didn't want me running in the rain. Also got home to supper in the crock pot. We have our struggles, but he makes me feel so loved.

Thanking God for this day.  :)

Hardening My Heart

'For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,   I  needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ (Matt. 25:35-36)

Our lives have been turned upside down, I feel like, within the last few weeks. A friend of mine posted a picture of a dog on "death row" (i.e. due to be euthanized).  Normally, when I see pictures like this on facebook, commercials, etc. I quickly look away or change the channel. Call me a chicken, tell me I'm avoiding the issue, I don't care. For someone who hates to see animals in distress, those types of images are tortuous. I imagine Chris' eye-rolling-head-shaking-no reaction when I bring up the question of additional animals in our home, and this helps me to quickly dismiss the idea.

However, when I saw this dog's picture, something stuck with me. My initial thought was WOW, how sad that this life that God created has been reduced to a mug shot of sorts before this poor guy faces lethal injection. My second thought was the usual, "we have room!" I showed Chris and he did not immediately say no. Thinking this was odd, I pushed the dog to the back of my brain but definitely did not stop thinking about him.  About a week after seeing his face, Chris and I made our FIRST trip up to animal control. He was somewhat interested in us, but didn't go out of his way to interact. You could tell he was in bad shape (having come in as a "stray"); nonetheless, he knew how to work that doggy magic. He has perfected his pitiful face, and even gave Chris a close-up when he laid his chin in Chris' lap.

We explained our situation to the ladies at the desk, and they encouraged us to bring our dogs up to visit. We could even bring Trafton. This way, we'd be able to get a picture of his temperament and how he'd get along with others. So we did just that. Our first visit was with Tank (great dane/mastiff mix) and Brutal (lab mix). We took all three of them for a walk in the park. I think I had to lean backwards at a 45 degree angle just to brace myself against the new dog's strength. (An entertaining picture, I'm sure, as my pregnant belly stuck out even further and tagged along behind him.) The dogs did fine together on neutral ground. But, as we'd soon discover, being on their own territory would prove to be an issue for our furry kids.

Our next visit was just with Trafton and the dog. I will admit that watching as the dog approached made me a bit apprehensive. But when he walked up to T. and licked him in the face, I realized that he was just eager for attention. Trafton loves any "di-di" (doggy in toddler speak), so he was thrilled to meet a new buddy.

Now we were truly in a pickle. As my husband likes to say, "We need another dog like we need a hole in the head." Truly, we have animals galore at our house, a toddler, and a baby on the way. We sat on this decision for weeks- literally. His face haunted me, and each day I'd wonder if he was still alive. Finally, we visited one last time, only to discover that it was his last day being alive. They were giving him the morning and by that evening, this baby would be put down. Well, you can guess what happened. Chris handed over the debit card to the ladies and arranged for us to pick him up the next day.

I would love to say that everything has been rainbows and warm fuzzies since then, but I would be lying. Instead, we brought him home only to discover that Tank, our big baby (literally!) has trouble accepting outsiders into his pack and onto HIS turf. This is what a dog trainer actually told us after many stressful days and nights of refereeing and juggling who's inside, who's outside, etc. It's taken crazy interventions to try and unite these two. I will say, in defense of "Petey", our animal control friend: he has not initiated any aggressive behaviors. He has been playful and loving. Our great dane is just simply having issues. Apparently, they are a very insecure breed of dog and lack self-confidence. Who would've thought a big ol' beast like him would be nervous and fearful of something smaller?!

So here's where we stand: both Chris and I have fallen for this new dog. We do not want to see him go and leave our family. Petey responds to voice commands like sit and lie down. He walks well on a leash and is incredibly loving and loyal. All he wants is a family. Time is our enemy: the vet and the dog trainer estimated approximately 3 months until their testosterone dies down and Tank calms down about the new "intruder". We don't have 3 months. I will be holding an infant by then, and Lord knows I can't juggle a toddler, an infant, and two disgruntled doggies on my own when Chris is at work.

I know some folks will say that what we did was dumb. Why in the world did we even approach animal control? Why did we adopt this dog in spite of having others? And in spite of being pregnant? (And not just "how exciting, first trimester "pregnant....no, we're talking "big mama, belly button poking out, worn slap out" pregnant.) I don't have an answer. I do know that when the Lord speaks, you follow. When he places something into my heart and my mind, I am to respond. However, I have also learned a different lesson: I need to harden my heart. Chris said to me, "You can't save 'em all and life's not all rainbows and butterflies". He is right. I will have to learn to look away sometimes, but it's so hard.
We saved the life of one of God's creatures and I'm thankful that He has awarded us some time with Petey. But He may have other plans for this dog. If you are at all interested in adding a sweet, loyal, fuzzy companion to your "pack", will you let me know?

A Hot Mess

Once I had a little one, life became more difficult. And not just in the ways you'd expect. Yes, there are sleep-deprived nights, toddler tantrums (story of my life recently, it seems), and TONS of anxiety. For me, it's not just anxiety about Trafton. That's where most of it originates- Trafton's schedule, his naps, his behavior, etc. But also anxiety about myself:

- My role as a mother....am I nurturing enough? Do I lose my cool too quickly? Am I going to make it with a toddler and an infant?!

Sons are a heritage from the LORD, children a reward from him. (Psalm 127:3)
Lord, thank you for this gift, this reward. I pray for patience and wisdom to appreciate my children and let them teach ME. And if I look clueless while I'm at it, oh well.

- My role as a wife...do I truly love my husband the way that he deserves? Do I love him the way that the Lord wants me to? Sometimes I feel like I'm doing the best I can, and other days I fail miserably at this. Chris and I are such separate souls; at times, it is hard to understand each other and move forward. Somehow, though, God weaves us together to carry out the jobs He has for our family. So I may not succeed as a wife each day, but I am trying. (And Chris has endless patience with me.)
Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. (Eccles. 4:9-10)

- My role as a believer...am I putting God first, before all my own selfishness, before all of my own insecurities? During our service today, I was struck by the pastor's underlying message. He encouraged us that the Lord looks at more than outward appearances. Using 1 Samuel 16:1-13, he spoke of a prophet named Samuel who is called to anoint the next king. God directs him to the sons of Jesse, all of which appear physically flawless. Strong and beautiful, but NOT the ones that God has chosen. Then here comes David, the "runt" of all Jesse's sons. Despite his small stature and bright-eyed naivety, Samuel immediately acknowledges him as the next king. God reminds him,
Looks aren't everything....God judges differently than humans do. Men and women look at the face; God looks into the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7)

For someone who has long-standing issues with appearance, this was like a smack in the face (a good smack). I've seen his verse before, and I have grown up hearing such advice. "Don't judge a book by it's cover", etc. I don't want to get into details, but I have battled certain demons for half of my life. Demons that swim in my insecurities and twist any and everything to bring me down. My body image has always been poor. For a while, I just plain lost control. There's not really a better way to explain it. I had no trouble loving others who were different; it didn't matter what they looked like.  But when it came to myself, I was an awful critic. Slowly, I've learned that God really does judge us differently.

In regards to money and material things, my father-in-law used to say "You can't take it with you". Meaning, when we meet Jesus, we won't be packing a fat wallet. I think this applies to our bodies as well. Our bodies are a shell for our souls. When we meet Jesus, we won't be showing off our muscular, skinny physique. Nope, He's going to look deeper. He's going to ask us to consider the work and the service that we've done for Him. I could weight 1,000 pounds and have a mustache and one eye. But if I'd loved others and given my life for God's glory?

"Right on, my child," He's going to say. "I'm proud of you and you have succeeded."

I may be a hot mess by the world's standards, but I am a beautiful mess according to His.

Southern Living

I went to visit my momma today. On the way down, I listened to some country. I go through music kicks; for weeks, I will only listen to 91.9 or contemporary Christian. Then I'll switch it up and add some motown or maybe some classic, old-school rock. I haven't been into country recently, but I just finished two books about cowboys, Texas rangers, and country living. Thus, I sort of fell back into the southern/country trend.

I listened to a couple of songs that got me thinking about being southern. More than that, growing up as a southern girl. There is something about being born and raised down south. I feel like there are certain things that define most of us. Sure, there are things that have happened (or sadly, are still happening) in our region: racism, discrimination, poverty, and LAWD let's not talk about today's heat wave. (108 degress in Columbia. Seriously?!) First, I want to clear up some misconceptions about southern girls. We are not all racist, we do not all fly the confederate flag in our front yard, and we don't all drive around with curlers in our hair and a Salem light hangin' out of our mouth.

The beautiful thing about the women that I know (southern or not) is the variety. It is amazing to compare and contrast all women and their personalities. So what does define us G.R.I.T.S.? There are a few things, in my opinion.

• Let's talk vocabulary and level of intelligence. I might not be the brightest candle on the cake, but I believe I can hold my own when reading, writing, and speaking. I might use the words "y'all" or "baby" quite frequently, but these are logical grammatical choices :) Y'all is a valid contraction: you + all. And baby actually has multiple uses: it may refer to my small child, my significant other, or someone who's been hurt (i.e. "poor baby").  Phrases like "Bless her heart" or "Thank you, Jesus!" also come out quite a bit. To me, these phrases are pretty self-explanatory. Bless her heart = God, bless that poor girl. Give her some direction/insight/help. Thank you, Jesus = Thank you for helping us, Lord/ Glad that's over/ We are blessed.

• Forget a man driving a BMW, Mercedes, or some other luxury vehicle. I'll take a man in a truck any day. And a man who can fix things or build things? Even better. A man who can aim and shoot a gun? Thank you, Jesus! Seriously, I love my husband's sense of family and heritage. I love how he plays the tough guy role with our son, but he melts when Trafton gives him hugs or kisses. I secretly love the farmer's tan that he gets when he works and sweats outside all day. He came home the other day with tan/dirty legs and stark white feet. To me, this symbolizes self-motivation and a desire to work and finish things. You know that Chesney song, She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy? That's some southern truth right there, y'all :)

• What else makes me thankful that I was born and raised in the south? The food. I'm not a picky eater. There is something about southern, home cooking that makes you feel good. Why else would it be called "comfort food"? It's really sad when you have the number for Lizard's Thicket memorized; when you can call on your way in to town and pick up southern cookin' for you and your family. I'm not one for deep-fried Snickers or Oreos or any of that mess. (Someone actually told me that the fair offers deep-fried butter now. BUTTER?! Seriously, that's sick.) But I can put away some home-cooked veggies, fried flounder, and tea.

• Southern women are well-rounded. Remember that variety I mentioned? Some of us possess quite varied interests. I grew up dancing. I loved hairbows and cute outfits in school, but I would build a tree house or a fort with my brother in a skinny minute. I would literally take in ANY wounded animal (or human, for that matter) if my bank account could afford it. But if someone takes advantage of me or someone that I love? We'll just say it can get ugly. I like to decorate our home and shop, but I like shooting a gun and riding on the four-wheeler. I LOVE my God and His word, but I'm not going to snub you if you're not so sure about it. I may not want to live your lifestyle, but Lord knows I'm done my fair share of sinning. So I'm just gonna keep on loving you and hope that you do the same for me.

• Our ability to make fun our ourselves. Jeff Foxworthy was born and raised in Georgia. His portrayal of southerners is hysterical. Here are a few of his "You Might Be a Redneck If..." declarations:

You think "loading the dishwasher" means getting your wife drunk.

You ever cut your grass and found a car.

You own a home that is mobile and 5 cars that aren't.

You own a homemade fur coat.

Your wife has ever said, "Come move this transmission so I can take a bath."

You've ever hit a deer with your car...deliberately.

Your school fight song was "Dueling Banjos".

Your mother has "ammo" on her Christmas list.

You think a subdivision is part of a math problem.

You've ever bathed with flea and tick soap.

You think "taking out the trash" means taking your in-laws to a movie.

The dog catcher calls for a backup unit when visiting your house.

People hear your car a long time before they see it.

You ever lost a tooth opening a beer bottle.

Your kids take a siphon hose to "Show and Tell."

You see no need to stop at a rest stop 'cause you have an empty milk jug.

You consider the fifth grade you senior year.

You think suspenders are a type of shirt.

The first words out of your mouth every time you see friends are "Howdy!" "HEY!" or "How Y'all Doin?"

Hmmm, would love to say that none of these apply to us, but....well, yeah. I'm sure the dog catcher would be a little intimidated coming to our home. And you can definitely hear my husband's truck coming around the corner before you can see it. And the last one? GUILTY.

The bottom line is that I LOVE where I am from. I know that when Chris looks at me, he sees a strong, intelligent, somewhat feisty female. I know that my daddy looks at me and sees his baby girl. I am protected and loved, but also respected. I have sisters and friends who I love dearly. I see and hear so many folks knock the south and southern living- whether it be on facebook, in movies, or on television. There are folks who complain about the way we do things once they move down south. We must be doing something right- people just keep on coming. And if you are that unhappy with the southern way of life? Maybe you should move somewhere else, hon'.

Daddy's Day

Today we celebrate the men in our lives! I know so many great fathers, but David Lee is the epitome of a good daddy. He is special to me for so many reasons...

I am a self-admitted "daddy's girl". I would love to say I'm not spoiled, but I'd be lying and Christopher would probably call me out on it. Actually, I consider "spoiled" to mean that you are given much but don't recognize or appreciate it. I may have been spoiled back-in-the-day, but as I've grown up, I have realized more and more all that my daddy did for us and all that he sacrificed. My dad has always provided for me and my brother, but not necessarily in the way you'd expect. Yes, we grew up with toys and other gifts. But it's more than that. We share a sense of humor and our level (or lack) of patience. He gave us wonderful memories and experiences that we will never forget. He modeled what a husband should be to a wife; I learned what to expect from the man that I married.

My daddy is sensitive. He can crack a joke or tease with the best of 'em, but he can also hold your hand and make you feel better during some tough times. When I was in labor with Trafton, I remember desperately wanting my dad. Once he arrived at the hospital, I remember laying on the hospital bed and having contractions with Chris on one side and my daddy on the other.

This is the day that Trafton smiled for the first time. And who else would he be smiling at?!

Why PAPA, of course.

Here's that sense of humor in play.

Hmm. Don't really need to describe this one.

While he's sensitive, loving, and forgiving, my dad is also one tough cookie. Countless marathons under his belt, daily workouts, and a soldier for God. A few years ago, I decided that I wanted to run a full marathon. During the weeks and weeks of training, I found myself wondering what I'd done. Some training runs felt great, while others were awful. Some days I thought, 'I got this. I can do it.' While other days, self-doubt filled my brain.

On race day, I was a nervous wreck. Daddy and I woke early, shared toast and coffee, and then came up with a distraction for the day. Instead of focusing on the pain, we focused on the 26 names that we wrote on our arms. Each mile, we'd pray for and share stories about the 26 individuals who we agreed on.

I never "hit the wall" or stopped to walk, and I KNOW that this was because of two reasons:

1. God is faithful and steps in when we cannot finish things alone

and

2. My daddy did everything he could to encourage, push, and love me to the finish line.

And it worked.

One of my favorite things about my daddy is his desire to help people. Whether it's his own family or a complete stranger, he would literally give the shirt off of his back if someone needed it.

(He might grumble while doing so, but he'd still offer it.)

Strong, generous, accepting, loving....Christopher has some big shoes to fill as the man in my life :)

Makin' Music

This morning we went to our first "Kindermusic" class: myself, Trafton, and Nana (my mom). I was apprehensive before we even left. T is a little over 19 months old, so I know that he loves to explore and he does NOT love to sit still. (Unless, of course, he is looking at trucks or reading one of his favorite books.)

There were 7 kids there today, all with their mamas. It was a diverse group in more ways than one: ages ranged from 6 months old to an older sibling who was probably around 6 years old. The room was also filled with different skin colors and different abilities. One little boy was adopted and was hearing-impaired. Be still my heart! I had to stop myself from staring at him out of amazement and love.

My worries grew at first while I watched all the other children- how they sat with their mothers and remained quiet as others filtered in. Meanwhile, my curious son greeted everyone by walking right up, staring at them, and sometimes smiling.

I thought...no, I HOPED that once the instructor started to speak and sign (it was a singing and sign language class) Trafton would stop exploring and wandering, and instead sit and listen. Ha! I was a tad bit embarrassed as he continued to check everyone out and make his way around the room. Every so often, he would return to me, squeal "Mama!" and fall into my arms. Other than that, my little independent explorer was doing his thing. I tried to hard to let him "be free", but my inner kindergarten teacher was about to pop when he refused to sit on the carpet and listen. I had to draw the line and get him once he discovered the instructor's doorstop. It was one of those springy types, the kind that you kick or move and it springs back in position with a loud, vibrating "BBBBOOOOOIIIINNNGGGG" sound. Yep, right in the middle of the teacher's chat with the mamas, Trafton discovered this fun, new "toy". He sprung into action (no pun intended) and several heads turned as the sound echoed through the room. He quickly stood up straight, looked right at me, and smiled. It was as if he was proudly declaring, look what I found mama!

My fears lessened as other children slowly loosened up and begun to explore and wander. Despite the physical limitations of some, each child responded in his own way to teddy bears, scarves, balls, and singing. By the end of our time together, children were rolling, crawling, or running every which way.

I have to say: when the instructor dumped several teddy bears in the middle of our circle and let the kids have at it, Trafton made sure that each child had one. He quickly picked one up and I thought 'oh no, I hope he'll share'. Well, my little man sure showed me. Not only did he share the first bear that he picked up, he proceeded to give all the smaller children a teddy. He even picked up one of the last teddy bears and gave it back to the instructor. This sharing might seem like a small victory to some, but I'll take it! I love that he wanted to take care of others' needs.

When it was time to clean up, Trafton continued to make me proud. He stopped playing and began picking things up to hand to the teacher. (Yes, he had a hard time giving up the bag of cheerios that she gave us to play with, but who can blame him?!)

My favorite part of the class?? During the teddy bear song, all the children held a bear and we sang a song and learned some sign language to go along. Once finished, the children were allowed to play and explore with the bears a little more. Liam, the young black child who had been adopted, made his way over the us on the rug. Along with hearing impairment, Liam obviously had some physical limitations as well. Walking was difficult, so he crawled over to Trafton. I asked Trafton to give his bear a kiss. (Background info: T. loves to kiss and hug. "Kisses" involve pursing his lips together and making a humming sound). After my son kissed the bear, he held it out to Liam for him to have a chance to love on the bear. Liam leaned over and pushed his face against the bear and smiled. I think a little precious drool also came out- I LOVED IT. I thought my hormonal behind was going to burst into tears.

Not sure who go more out of the class- T. or his mama :)