When I See You Smile

Since I’m away at a conference this week, I missing both my man and my boy terribly.  Since I’ve already written a gushy little story about Jay this week, I guess I’ll turn my attention toward the second love of my life (if you haven’t already read about the wonderful miracle of Micah, start here!).

Since my little guy is getting older, I’m running out of opportunities to tell really embarrassing stories about him without scarring him for life (Yes, I’m aware that once I put this out there in cyber space, it will exist forever, but he’s gotta have something to tell his therapist someday!).

Micah is a little comedian, and he will do just about anything for a laugh.  He has always been this way.  Even as a baby, when he would make a silly face or a funny noise, his ever-captive audience would laugh, and his natural reaction was to repeat.  This is one of the reasons he is such an absolute joy in my life.

It’s also the reason he is always in trouble.

Jay and I learned pretty quickly that if Micah was being mischievous, no matter what he said or did, we absolutely could not laugh, giggle or even crack a smile because to him, getting another laugh was totally worth getting a time-out.  So we have trained ourselves to stifle our giggles.

Others, however, have not.

Often when we’re out and about, Micah will say something rude or inappropriate and as I go to scold him, I will hear it and cringe…. A laugh.

I know from that point on, it’s just no use.  I might as well turn a spotlight on him and announce, “Ladies and gentleman, children of all ages, may I introduce the hilariously rude and crude one-man-show… Mr. Micah Spalding!”

This summer, Micah attended a sleep-away camp with over 400 other children and yet, every single member of the staff knew my boy’s name.  Over and over, various members of the camp staff would come up to me to share stories of Micah’s antics, such as:

1)He refused to go to bed one night, ran around the cabin laughing and cheering, and then eventually went to sleep… in his suitcase.

2) His counselor told him he had to take a shower, but Micah thought it would be funnier if he ran himself a bubble bath in the sink!

3) One night he yelled out to everyone, “Hey, it’s 3:00 a.m.!  Where’s my cigarettes?”  (Let me ASSURE you that neither Jay or I have EVER been smokers!  Okay, wait. That’s a lie. I smoked once when I was nine years old.  I puked.  So I quit).

As I listened, slightly horrified, to each tale, I noticed a common denominator.

“I couldn’t help but giggle.”

“He was hilarious.”

“I was trying to get onto him, but I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Ugh.  I can just imagine Micah taking a bow and saying, “Thanks!  I’ll be here all week!”

When I think of Micah and his anything-for-a-laugh mentality, once incident in particular always comes to mind –

We had just moved to a new town, and it was the busiest time of year.  I was meeting with a group of volunteers one evening to help sort Christmas toys for needy children.  Some of the volunteers were from our new church and some were from the community.  Everyone was really nice, but I was a little nervous since I was new to everyone, and since Micah had to be there with me.  He was only four years old at the time, and I wasn’t sure how he would behave in front of everyone.

He did pretty well the first half of the evening, but when we all sat down for a dinner break, he began acting a little silly.  Of course, everyone was laughing.  And then it really started.  My sweet, cuddly, cute boy… ripped one.  And loudly.  The whole table erupted into laughter.  He did it again. I whispered threats into his non-listening ear, but all he could hear were the hoots and hollers from all his new friends.  So he continued on, cackling, tooting (that’s the cute way to say it), and grunting. 

Anybody want to guess what happened?

I saw his eyes turn just slightly red before they shot open in shock.  “Mom!” he yelled.  “I pooped!!!”

Awesome.

I spent 20 minutes in the warehouse bathroom with a bottle of hand soap and a stack of paper napkins, then searched through the extra donations to find my little stinker (see what I did there?) a pair of pj pants to slip on.  I was red faced (partly from embarrassment and partly from rage), but something odd happened.



Hours later, after Micah was properly berated and put to bed, I sat up in my own bed, put my head in my hands, and, until tears rolled down my face, I laughed.

Our attempt at a serious family picture



If you can't beat 'em...



Hopelessly Devoted to You

Since I am far from home right now, and desperately missing that man of mine (really, if I could see him right now, I wouldn't even complain about his giant shoes in the floor, his strange sleep sound - half snore/half scream, or his middle of the night eating in bed), I thought I’d carry on the love story started here.  

Jay at my house on a weekend visit

 Jay and I spent a wonderful, sick-in-love summer together before we both headed back to the realities of life as seniors in high school… two hours away from each other.  Since our romance took place in the pre-cell phone age (we’re so old), we worked ourselves to death, raking in a whopping five bucks an hour at our after-school jobs, just to pay our long distance phone bill.  And don’t think we didn’t treasure every single 10 cent minute!  We talked on the phone about 30 minutes a night, but we just couldn’t get enough of each other… so we wrote letters.  Hundreds of letters.  Several times a week, I’d come home and see that familiar handwriting on an envelope in the mailbox, and suddenly, nothing was more important than reading that letter… over and over and over.

(Just a side note to make you melt – Jay saved every single letter I ever wrote to him, including a few we exchanged when we were just friends.  He has an “angel box” that contains every word of our budding romance).

I don't know what's better - the shirts or the blonde hair!

I spent as many weekends as I could with Jay and his family in Louisville.  I can still remember the feeling of crossing the street from my high school (I only lived seven houses down from the school) and spotting that red chevy blazer parked in front of my house, and that tall, handsome boy leaning against it, waiting for me.  I knew, even then, how lucky I was. 

Christmas 1996

Jay proposed to me at a Homecoming dance – we were just babies, but somehow we knew this was it for us.  We planned to get married nearly a year after graduation, but as we continued the joys and heartaches of a long distance relationship, the wedding got moved up… and up… and up (finally settling on October 18^th – 4 months after graduating high school)! And I moved to Louisville as the very first opportunity – I graduated high school Friday night and moved Saturday morning.  I couldn’t stand to be away from him.  And I still can’t!

Before my Homecoming Dance.  Jay looks pretty relaxed!

I have a million memories from that year, and it all seems so fresh.  

I remember every slow dance

a midnight date in the park

visiting Jay’s extended family in Tennessee and cruising around town in his Aunt Mary’s Cadillac

the time Jay told me he couldn’t come for the weekend, but then surprised me

the time Jay told me he couldn’t come for the weekend and I really really thought he was going to surprise me, but he didn’t  L

splashing in the puddles of a cold November rain

Proms and dances

hearing Jay preach for the first time

Jay’s birthday party on the pontoon boat at camp

Christmas morning when Jay showed up at my house at 6:00 a.m.

Sitting at Taco Bell in the car, crying because being apart was so hard

Falling asleep on the phone together (a very expensive nap!)



Jay's Senior Prom



I am so blessed to have felt real love at such a young age, to find the man who was created for me before I even knew how to search for him.  Our story is not without its share of bumps and bruises, of trials and heartbreaks, but nothing can ever tarnish the memory of those early days.  They were perfect.

143, my love.  Always.

I love you so much that I am putting this terrible picture of
me on my blog... just because you were so handsome.

We are so fragile, our cracking bones make noise, and we are just breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys.

A contemplative me in BREEZY, beautiful, 75 degrees Colorado!

I know my blog is typically fun and not at all controversial, so if you prefer it that way, please skip this one.  Here are some past posts you may enjoy:

 Crazy Things that Happen to Me            Micah's Adoption              What I Love About Home

I wanted to post this several days ago, but I was busy getting ready to go out of town (then busy actually GOING out of town), but now that I’m where I’m going and enjoying a little break, I thought I’d take a little time to give my opinion on a now dated subject.

I have friends and family on all sides of this argument, as it has indeed become that, but here are my thoughts, for what they’re worth:

I LOVE Chick-fil-a.  I worked there for years when I was in high school.  I appreciate their family values (I’m not going to sing their praises based on the fact that they’re closed on Sundays.  That seems hypocritical since I often go out to eat after church on Sunday.  By that token, I’d have to be express thanks for all of those godless restaurants that make sure I get fed on the day of rest).  I have eaten at Chick-fil-a in the past (probably too much) and I will eat there in the future (I love waffle fries dipped in ranch dressing!), but on Wednesday, August 1^st, the official Chick-Fil-A Appreciation day (as ordained by Mike Huckabee and chicken lovers everywhere), I ate at home.

My decision to forgo the delicious chicken sandwiches had nothing to do with the fact that I was extremely busy on Wednesday, or that it pains me to shell out $7.00 for a value meal, or that I had such a better meal prepared at home – I ate a packet of lunch meat turkey and seven green olives.  My reason was bigger.

My husband and I discussed this at length, and here is what we decided: In our ever humble opinion, we don’t believe the Jesus we love and serve would have had chicken on Wednesday either.  Jesus was way more in the business of serving those who were hurt and broken and hated than telling the “righteous” how right they were.  This blog really got me thinking à Food for Thought

My view

I’m spending my week in beautiful Colorado Springs, and today, in a worship service, our attention was called to the story of the Good Samaritan (found in the gospel of Luke), probably a story you’re at least a little familiar with, regardless of your church background, but just in case, I’ll give a recap.

A man was on his way to Jericho when he was attacked by robbers and his money and clothes were stolen.  He was left to die.  As he lay there suffering, a priest and a levite (both religious men) passed by him and did nothing, even passed by on the other side of the road.  A Samaritan, pretty much considered the scum of the earth by Jewish people, passed by, saw the man who was hurt, bandaged his wounds, cared for him, took him somewhere safe, and paid the bill.  Jesus says that the Samaritan was a neighbor to that man.  He showed love.

The injured man wasn’t asked how he was hurt or why.  He wasn’t told that he could have prevented the whole situation by not ignorantly choosing to walk alone on a dangerous road.  He wasn’t told that he shouldn’t feel as hurt as he did.  He was simply cared for… because he was broken.

It really hit me hard.  One man, an assumed enemy of the other, went to great personal sacrifice to help someone who was hurting, while the righteous walked on by (perhaps on their way to buy some chicken strips?).  I’m not trying to put down anyone who tried to show support to Chick-fil-a or freedom of speech that day.  They absolutely had the right to do that.  I just can’t help but wonder if there was so much more we could have done to show the love of Christ instead – what more could I have done?  I fear that we just did more to solidify the Christians Vs. Gay People fight.  It’s heart-breaking to think this has become our message.

It’s not the message of Jesus as I understand it.  The message that changed my life, the message I’ve dedicated my life to – it is good news.  It’s a message of hope and love.  If you’d ever like to know more about it – I love to share.

Dancing Slowly in an Empty Room...

This will be just a short blog tonight! 

I’m traveling from Tulsa to Colorado Springs (only having gone about 5 hours out of the way so far!), and I have a mere 4 hours of shut-eye before getting back on the road tomorrow.  Even though I’m exhausted, I wanted to spend a few minutes with you guys (only partly because I’ve never stayed alone in a hotel room, and this $59 special was the only room available in two towns.  Don’t worry – I checked thoroughly for murderers, and with the exception of the sketchy air conditioner and the curiously damp carpet, it’s okay).

Thank goodness I have this super cool console TV
to watch the Olympics Recap

*By the way, I love that my mom called me on the road and told me that it doesn’t seem like I’m old enough to be making this trip without Jay.  She doesn’t know that I’m a big girl now (well, a big girl that checks her shower and under the bed for murderers).*

AND NOW….

THE  MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR…

THE WINNER OF A BOX OF MY FAVORITE THINGS IS….

MICHELLE JEAN!

Michelle, send me your info (to jmejo327@gmail.com) and I’ll get a box to you after I get home from my trip!

Stay tuned for another give-away in the future… just because I’m so good at sharing!

Kisses!

I'm Scared Today, More Than I Told You I Was Yesterday

I’m so busy.

I have some new (to me) furniture coming in 12 hours, company coming for dinner in about 21 hours, and I’m leaving for a week in Colorado in about 40 hours, but instead of doing ANYTHING on my to-do list (i.e. finishing up some work, prepping old furniture to be picked up. cleaning my house, doing laundry, shopping, packing, etc.), I am writing this here blog (and watching the Olympics.  And, for good measure, I’m going to read a bunch of other people’s blogs).  My priorities are spot-on.

It seems as if fear is the theme of the week.  I have shared before that I hate scary movies, but that is not entirely true.  I actually used to really like spooky movies – I’m the one who got Jay watching them (he was a chicken when he met me!). 

Even now, sometimes I like to curl up on the couch with Jay and a bowl of popcorn and kind of, sort of watch a creepy movie.  If it gets too scary, I’ll distract myself with a magazine or my laptop.  If it’s really, really scary, I will turn around and watch the reflection of the movie in Jay’s glasses (I can't explain why this feels safer).  If it’s super, super scary, I will turn around, close my eyes, hide my head under the covers and ask Jay repeatedly to tell me what’s happening.  

Scary movies aren’t so bad… unless they are gory, or feature creepy old women or little children.  And I hate scary movies that deal with any type of demonic possession.  

Enter Linda Blair.

In the early 1970’s, this seemingly adorable young girl made a terribly frightening movie called The Exorcist, and in the year 1990 (when I was the ripe old age of eleven), someone decided it would be a good idea for me to watch it.

It was not a good idea.

I watched this movie from start to finish, pretending I wasn’t the least bit scared. My friends at school were watching it too, and I was glad I was going to be able to talk about it with them the next morning.  (SPOILER ALERT: I never spoke of this movie again, except to tell this story).

That night, it took me forever to fall asleep.  I could have sworn my bed was shaking.  I heard creeks and groans.  I was terrified.  Finally I dozed off.  Moments later though, at precisely 11:34 p.m., our cat (by the way, the only memory I have of EVER having a cat) came into the room and knocked the alarm clock off my desk, and it landed upside down in the chair.  I sat straight up in my bed… and was met with the giant red word… 11:34 upside down…

The word “HELL” – bright red in my dark bedroom.   

Call it a fluke or a coincidence, but I have never gotten over this!  No evil movies for this chick!

Once, not too long ago, I came across The Exorcist on Telemundo, and figured it would be funny to watch a second of it in Spanish.  Turns out – not funny!  Terrifying!

Now your turn!  What’s the scariest movie you’ve ever seen?

(Don’t forget to become of follower of my blog – you’ve got two hours left!)

duh-nuh... duh-nuh... duh-nuh, duh-nuh duh-nuh duh-nuh (obviously the JAWS theme)

Don't worry.  I'm just as scared as you.

If I’ve made anything abundantly clear in this blog, I think it’s that I’m a bit of a fraidy cat.  Sometimes, I’m scared for silly reasons, like spooking myself when I’m alone in the house, and sometimes it’s just because crazy stuff always seems to happen to me.  Regardless, I’m really trying to get braver in my old age, and am working on facing some of my fears.

Just to clue you in, here is a more extensive (though not all-inclusive) list of my completely irrational rational fears:

1)      Choking (I have a very long mental list of foods I won’t eat when I’m alone – just in case)

2)      Public bathrooms (or any bathroom that is not in my very own home)

3)      Spiders (do you know how many people in the world have been bitten by TWO different brown recluse spiders?  I’m pretty sure I’m the only person ever)

4)      The movie Pet Semetary.  Really just one character from the movie.  I’m not revealing any more for fear that I will open a random email with a terrifying picture of the unsaid character.  I know some of you people.  I AM TALKING ABOUT YOU, JAY!

5)      Falling and knocking my teeth out.  I have dreamt of this since I was a little kid.

6)      Haunted houses, scary movies or any other time things jump out to scare you (who thinks that is fun?)

7)      Mice (Yes, I know I own a rat.  I’m scared of him too)

8)   Cats.  They are creepy.  You know they're plotting something.

9)      Natural bodies of water* (pools aren’t scary.  You can see to the bottom and you CONTROL what is in there).

10)      Boats (because they move quickly over natural bodies of water)

Now, in case you don’t know, Jay and I have booked a cruise to Mexico in celebration of our 15^th wedding anniversary in October.  So obviously, #9 and #10 are things I need to start working on – and fast.

 *SIDEBAR – Despite what my husband thinks, this fear is, in fact, COMPLETELY rational.  I mean, your feet are dangling in a world that you cannot see!  And do you know how many new species are discovered every single year?  About 15,000.  (Check out THIS GUY that was recently discovered.  He looks friendly). So don’t tell me, beloved, that there’s no such thing as a big, slimy, Jamie-eater.  They just haven’t found it yet!  In my opinion, there is plenty to fear in the deep waters (snakes, fish, piranhas, sharks, Jason Voorhees, sharp rocks, seaweed, floating away into infinity and general ickiness – just to name a few).

So, in an effort to strengthen my courage, I accepted an invitation to go out on a speedboat with the Stegalls, a lovely couple from church (they invited us a year ago, but I wasn’t quite ready to trust them with my life at that point). 

Grinning and bearing it.

Sunday afternoon after lunch, we (Jay, Micah and I along with the Jay and Martha Stegall) rode out to the lake together, pulling the boat behind us.  I was very sort of brave… until it was time to step onto the boat.  I felt a little shaky from the get-go, and I know that the boat only goes like 40 mph, but it felt like we were going the speed of light. About three minutes in, as we sped through the waters, surrounded by other boats that were also speeding through the waters, I was hyperventilating a little and terrible things were flooding my mind (Headline: Five Killed in Tragic Boating Accident – Should Have Used Better Judgment). I looked over to my little seven year old boy, expecting him to be paralyzed with fear, but instead he was laughing and smiling like this was the best thing ever. I peeked over at my Jay (not to be confused with Martha’s Jay) to see if he, like me, was wondering if this was almost over, and he too was laughing and chatting as if the world around us was not spiraling out of control.  So I closed my eyes and tightened my death grip on the metal bar that was beside me. 



Jay looks terrified, right?



Everyone was just terribly amused by my panic, evidenced by the fact that every single time I would start to relax a little, the driver (let’s just call him Jay Stegall) sped up and did some kind of crazy turn.  And then, if I wasn’t petrified enough, everyone decided it would be a great idea to let Micah, my little first grader, drive the boat.  And not play-around-drive-the-boat, but actually control it! 

Oh yeah, I gots this!

Eventually though, I settled down and actually started to enjoy myself.  So much so, that when we stopped the boat to take a dip in the lake, I jumped in too.  I mean, I wrapped myself tightly with a rope that was secured to the boat so that I wouldn’t float away or be pulled under by a yet-to-be-discovered big, slimy, Jamie-eater, but still, I was pretty proud of myself.

Feeling almost totally safe

Martha is trying to show me how  much rope I actually need to be holding

My very brave boys

After our swim, Micah and Jay took turns being pulled behind the boat in an inner tube.  I decided not to brave that particular activity (though that might have had less to do with my fear of the lake, and more to do with my fear of bouncing around on a big orange raft in my swimsuit in front of an audience).

Later, we stopped at a marina for dinner (I definitely did NOT walk into the restaurant, immediately toss my cookies, then spend ten minutes contemplating whether or not it would be a good idea to lie down on the bathroom floor for a bit).  I recovered though, and got back on the boat, even after standing on the dock and looking at cat fish as big as school busses (okay, skateboards). 

All-in-all, a pretty good day.  I’m feeling pretty good about the cruise (as long as I carry on a little nausea medicine… and make sure that Micah isn’t driving).

So tell me readers, what are you afraid of?

(Also, don’t forget to become a follower of my blog and be eligible for a fun little give-away!)

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

Since my self-esteem may or may not be unhealthily connected to how many people read this little blog, I’m super excited to report that I have hit 2000 reads!  Thanks everyone! – especially to whomever is reading this in the following countries: Russia, Germany, the United Kingdom, South Korea, Turks and Caicos Islands, Puerto Rico, Sweden, and Romania.  Oh, and all you local peeps too.

I know most of you come to my blog via facebook – so either a hundred or so of you read my blog regularly, OR my three faithful followers read it hundreds of times.  Either way has me equally jazzed!

 To celebrate this momentous occasion, I’m going to have a little just-for-fun-give-away, like the real bloggers do!   (I, of course, have no sponsors, but since I’m a faithful sponsor of Sephora and Birchbox, I have beauty samples galore to send you!).

Here’s what you do!  Go to my blog on your computer (not your mobile device) and become a follower – hit where it says, “Join this site” and then follow the easy directions.  It will make it much easier for you to leave comments on what you read! 

Become a follower by Wednesday, August 1 at midnight (CST) and you will be entered in my little drawing.  The winner will get one box full of my favorite things! 

Be sure to check back with me a little later in the week to see how I conquered one of my fears this weekend, and to see why crazy cats and Linda Blair give me nightmares.