I’m Sailing Away…. But First, I’m Driving Away

I will officially be on vacation in about an hour.  I’m pretty stoked.  Luckily, Jay and I had the foresight to begin our vacation a day before we were actually leaving.  Tomorrow I have just a few things on my list – clean the house, unpack from my conference, do laundry, pack for the cruise, pack Micah’s lunches and snacks for school for the next several days, buy him a new shirt for school picture day, go to the pharmacy, go to Walmart, go to Sephora, get my toes and nails did (and Jay’s too!), load the car, and get to bed at a decent hour before heading to Galveston very early Wednesday morning.  Totally doable, right?

Tonight, as we were talking about our trip, someone asked if we were planning to drive or fly to Texas, and Jay replied, “Are you kidding?  The road trip is the best part.”

Now, since I have my first-ever cruise and my first-ever venture into another country awaiting me, I certainly hope that’s not true.  I do admit though, we have a pretty great time on the road.  Well, as long as a few simple rules are observed.  And so, I present to you:

Jay and Jamie’s Road Rules

1. Synchronize your bladders: When we are on a roadtrip, however long it may be, you will rarely ever hear one of us say, “Can we stop for a bathroom break?”  No, instead, perhaps as a nod to our competitive nature, we will demonstrate bladders of steel. 

You will hear, “Do YOU need to stop?”

“Not unless you do.”

“I’m good if you’re good.”

“Ok.  30 more miles.”

We once made it from Houston, TX to Louisville, KY (an 18 hour drive) on two stops. 

2. Prepare for “Home Cooking:”  I don’t know why this is, but every single time we take a significant roadtrip, we stop to eat at Cracker Barrel.  Why is that?  Do we not realize that Cracker Barrel exists all the time, and, in fact, we have several in our city?  What is it about being crammed in a car for several hours that makes us crave cornbread, mashed potatoes, and meatloaf?  Or more accurately in my case, chocolate covered peanuts and peppermint sticks?

3. You Snooze, You Lose (Your Music): If anyone (me) falls asleep, someone (Jay) will change the music.  You may doze off to the sweet sounds of Ingrid Michaelson or Chantal Kreviazuk, only to be rudely awakened by some very loud Metallica.  Enter Sandman?  I think not.

4. Socially Responsible Shoes Are NOT COOL for the roadtrip: TOMS are cute.  And pretty comfy, but under no circumstances may they be worn in the car for any length of time.  It is inevitable that at some point during the journey, shoes will be kicked off.  Since TOMS smell like sin and act as an anti-air freshener, rocking them on the roadtrip is just plain mean.   While we’re at it, any on-purpose stink while we’re trapped in the car on the interstate in just uncalled for (ahem… sweetie), especially when you use your window locks and render me helpless.

5. Sniffles Are Acceptable at a Minimum: At some point on the trip, someone will cry.  Often we’ll reminisce about good times or sad times.  We will hear a sentimental song or read something emotional, and the boo-hoos will begin.  (Oh shoot!  Jay don’t forget to put tissues in the car).

6. Eat, Drink and Be Merry, for Tomorrow We Diet: Food that is never consumed in real life will be eaten on the trip.  Roughly 60% of the day’s diet will be purchased from a gas station, and it’s no holds barred.  Chickosticks, Fun Dip, and Corn Dogs!  Oh my!

7. It’s the Thought that Counts: At some point during the trip, I will offer to drive.  Jay will politely refuse and say, “Thanks honey, but we’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

8. What Happens in the Car Stays in the Car: As Jay previously mentioned, I am known for my special dance, which Jay refers to as “The Jello-Necked Head Bob.”  I’m also known to fall asleep, mouth wide open, head pressed against the window.  Jay tried to convince me once that a passer-by was clicking pictures of me.  And that’s fine.  Good for him.  But Jay had better never do such a thing, and it had really better never end up on facebook.

9. The Comfort of the Queen Is of Upmost Importance:  Jay and I have been roadtrippin’ for about 16 years, and he has conceded to this very important fact – the PASSENGER (read: me) controls the heat/air.  Yes, it’s true, there have been moments where the driver was shivering, icicles hanging from his nose, while the passenger was comfortably wrapped in her furry blanket, sound asleep, but even still, the wise driver kept his hands off the thermostat.  It’s only fair.  He gets to control the wheel.  I mean, under my strict advisement, of course.

10. We Will, in Fact, Rock and Roll All Night: People assume that Jay and I have no musical ability. This is a fallacy.  Those people have never heard us singing in the car.  Something happens in there.  Maybe it’s to do with acoustics, but a Jay and Jamie rendition of Bon Jovi’s Wanted Dead or Alive could bring a tear to your eye.  If you’re unsure about our vehicular super star status, check the glove compartment.  There you will find a bedazzled microphone.  For the fellow travelers who will be attending one of our shows on Wednesday, at 75 mph… you’re welcome.

You Can't Be a Sore Loser if You Never Lose!

This week, Jay and I are at a work conference, where we gather twice a year with colleagues from throughout Arkansas and Oklahoma for the purposes of instruction, fellowship, and encouragement.  Last night, as part of our planned activities, we left the beautiful camp/conference center where we’re staying and traveled to Tulsa to eat at Dave & Busters (a Chuck-E-Cheese type restaurant for grown folks, in case you’re unfamiliar) and participate in a “team-building activity,” which basically consisted of running around the midway in a scavenger hunt, playing games and answering questions – it was, by the way, awesome.

Winning!

The 80 or so of us enjoyed dinner together, then were assigned referees to separate us into 10 teams.  Jay and I were placed on separate teams.  This was good for the other players (with our powers combined, we would have, of course, annihilated you), but was perhaps not so good for our marriage, as evidenced by the fact that before the word “go” was uttered, Jay and I were already throwing down some pretty impressive trash talk. 

We can be pretty competitive. 

I don’t think that I’m necessarily competitive with people in life.  Though now that I’m trying to think of specific examples to prove the previous sentence is true, I’m starting to not feel so good about myself.  So, in order to avoid opening up that can of worms, I’m moving on.



We'd be better at losing if we were more used to it! 



We are game-players in our family, and not to brag, but we’re pretty good (What?!?  You wanna go?  I’ll take you in Scattergories right now!).  After Micah recently had the mother of all meltdowns after losing at a game of Candyland, we convinced his very well meaning Nanny and Pop that they have to stop letting him win every game they play with him.  We did this for two reasons – 1) No one wants their kid to be the one who stomps away crying when he’s out in dodgeball and 2) We hate to lose as much as Micah!  Let him win?  No fair!



No game throwing allowed!



We have a family game night record book, and chances are, if you’ve enjoyed some lite Balderdash or Yahtzee at Spalding manor, your name is in the book (as losers?). As a family, we can often be found having some sort of game tournament.  We all have our strengths – Jay is killer at Operation.  I dominate Mancala.  Micah is a beast at Monopoly Crazy Cash. We are guilty of talking a little smack, but in the end, we congratulate each other on a job well done – well, in front of Micah, then Jay and I continue said trash talking for the rest of the night.



We started him young!



This summer, while on a camping vacation, we created a trophy and held the first annual Spalding Decathlon.  Jay is the reigning champ, but Micah and I are already plotting our revenge for next summer.

Yes, we enjoy a little rivalry here and there, but don’t worry.  The hubby and I put our spirited nature to good use.  When there is a task at work that neither of us wants to do, we usually settle it by engaging in a friendly, albeit cut-throat competition.  A game of darts?  Paper, Rock, Scissors?  Words with Friends?  A little break for some fun and then the loser (ahem… Jay) will tackle the task at hand.

So, in case you’re dying to know.  Jay’s team took the victory at the team building exercise, but only because they totally cheated, and who really cares about winning a stupid Dave & Busters glass anyway?

In all honesty, I do love that we still like to have fun with each other, and I’m mostly never, only sometimes, on occasion, most of the time, always a sore loser. 

Luckily he always agrees to a rematch.

Where did my baby boy go?

My dear, sweet son is growing up so fast.

During all those years when I was waiting for God to bless me with a baby, I would spend hours daydreaming what it would be like to hold him, rock him, play with him.  I couldn’t wait.

When Micah finally arrived, I was ready to relish every second of his babyhood.  Not to say there weren’t moments when I found my very-grateful-to-have-this-baby self sitting on the nursery floor, crying from exhaustion, but for the most part, I sought to memorize every minute, to enjoy it all.  But here’s the thing – I really thought I’d have more baby time.  I blinked and he was toddler.  I looked away for a second and he was a pre-schooler.  Moments later, he was seven years old.  I know that I’ll get a little distracted, and he’ll be taller than I am.  Next thing you know, poof!  He’s graduating.

This breaks my heart.  I was trying to explain all of this to Jay today.  I was telling him how sad it makes me that Micah will only believe in Santa for another year or so, maybe not even that long (please just give me at least this one more Christmas!), how sad it makes me that he’s gotten so tall, how sad it makes me that he doesn’t want my help sounding out words anymore, and how very sad it makes me that he wants to be something scary for Halloween (that fact that I won't let him be some ghoul or psycho-killer from a movie he's not even old enough to watch yet makes me the meanest mom ever!).  Jay looked at me like I was nuts.

“It’s what happens. They grow up,” he said.

“Shut up.  Don’t give me your circle of life speech.”  Okay, I didn’t really say that.

I feel like time is slipping through my fingers.  If God would please hurry up and start working on Miracle Baby #2, my panic might subside a little, but as it stands, this is my one shot, and it’s all going by so fast.

I am really trying to treasure my time with my little boy while he is still a little boy.  I love when he sits up at the counter, eating a snack after school.  I love listening to him explain a picture he’s drawn.  One of my absolute favorite times of the day is our bedtime routine.  After Micah takes his shower, puts on his pajamas, and brushes his teeth, he, Jay and I all climb up into our big bed together and snuggle underneath our covers.  We have “whisper time” where we talk about our day, using our quietest voices.  Then either Jay or I will read Micah a story from his children’s Bible – right now the Israelites are wandering in the desert- and we will pray and cuddle a bit before Jay carries Micah off to bed.  Even all of this is limited though, isn’t it?  One day in the not-too-distant future, he won’t want to chat with me after school, his drawings will be self-explanatory, he’ll be too big to carry to bed. 

I’m urging myself, “Don’t blink! Don’t miss a thing!”  I want it all to last just a little bit longer.

(However, as much as I want to be present for every second of his life, I’m TOTALLY ditching that boy to go on a cruise with my first love in 8 short days!  By the time I get back, he'll probably have his driver's license!).

Kisses!

Do We Ever Outgrow Our Insecurities?

When I was in middle school, I got a pair of Keds tennis shoes for Christmas.  Do you remember these?  They were white, canvas, nothing really special about them except for the small, blue tag on the back.  These shoes cost $27.99.  And EVERYONE was wearing them. 

They really didn’t last all that long.  It wasn’t long before mine were stained and worn, and I was ready for another pair.  By that time, however, my mother had discovered that Walmart sold very similar shoes for only $3.50.  They looked virtually the same.  Oh, except they had a bright orange rectangle in the back, which basically said, “Attention!  Not Keds!”  I was mortified.  I cried and begged, but mom wasn’t budging. 

And so I did the only rational thing I could.  I cut the blue tag off the Keds, the orange tag off of the not-Keds, and created something that kind of looked like the real thing.

This moment… this gluing a designer tag on something much cheaper, seemed to set the theme for my time in middle/early high school.  I desperately wanted to be good enough.  Since I came from a large family that didn’t really have a lot of money, I never seemed to have what the other girls had.  There was a time when I honestly thought that if I could have a pair of Guess Jeans, a United Colors of Benetton shirt, and a Jansport backpack, my life would have been complete.  Often, I did get the things I really wanted – a panda coin ring, a pink ice ring, a leather bomber jacket, a pair of umbros, but just slightly after the other girls had stopped wearing them.  Add all this to the fact that I was a little chubster AND had incredibly fine, limp hair, AND liked New Kids on the Block long past when it was socially acceptable, and I felt like I had no chance.

It never even occurred to me that my personality might be enough to make up for the little things I didn’t have.  I was always envious of the girls who had it all, but I was even a little more envious of the girls who didn’t, but didn’t seem to care.

Insecurity is a funny thing.  The days have long since passed that I’m worried about having certain labels to fit in.  I’m always a bargain shopper, and in fact, it’s my nature now to kind of go in the opposite direction when things get wildly popular (okay, except Kate Spade.  Even if everyone else starts to love her, she was mine first.  I shan’t ever give her up!). But some things haven’t changed.  I’m still a little chubster.  I still have a pretty passionate love/hate relationship with my hair.  I still can rock out to some Hangin’ Tough on occasion. And though I’m pretty secure up on a stage or at a pulpit, when I’m sitting at a lunch table full of people, I’m still a scared 7^th grader just praying people will like me. 

Am I alone in this?

And, just for your viewing pleasure, some pics of me in middle school -



Check out those bangs!



I actually loved this sweater.  There's no accounting for taste.

Whoa.  A purple silk shirt and "dress" shorts.
But to be fair, I'm not the only one who looks crazy here! 

My proudest hair moment!  I worked so hard for those curls!

Jay's Guest Blog (and My Response!)

Below, you will find Jay’s guest blog (with my rebuttals in bold because I always get the last word!  If YOU want the last word, get your own blog!).  Enjoy!

My sweet, lovable wife has given me the privilege to share on her blog.  I want to share some of the quirky, interesting, weird things about her.

1) First, even though my wife is absolutely gorgeous, and I would never in a million years want to change anything about her, God was creative when He put her together.  I’ve said over the years that she was not put together with super glue, like a normal person, but maybe Bubble Yum.  Her jaw, wrists, shoulders, hips, nose, earlobes, pinky toe and eyelids can all pop out of socket.  Just ask her.  She’ll let you feel it any time.

Who are these “normal” people who are put together with super glue?   

Jay is right though.  My joints dislocate themselves on a pretty regular basis.  Many years ago when this still freaked me out, I would go to the emergency room.  After the third odd visit, they took Jay in a tiny room to question him! 

2) Next, Jamie loves me so much that she always wants me to share in every experience that she has.  Examples:

Jamie: “Hey Jay, this stinks.  You should smell it as well.” 

Jay: “Sweetheart, I believe you.  I don’t want to smell it.”

Jamie: “Please baby, if you love me, you’ll smell this.”

Jay: “Yes, sweetheart.  That does stink.  Thank you so much for allowing me to enjoy in this experience with you.”

If Jamie is hot, has a swollen something-or-other, or an upset belly, I must confirm the heat, touch the swollen masses, or listen to the churns of her queasy stomach.  She will come and find me to show me her “I’m gonna get sick bumps” – which are little white dots are the side of her tongue, like if you were to press your tongue too long against the sides of your teeth.  These act like a weather vane that tells the direction of the wind.  The more “sick bumps” she has, the sicker she will be. 

If Jamie’s extraordinarily odd sinuses are acting up, she will make me a part of it.  “Honey, why is my eyeball so squishy?  Feel it!”  or “Look, rice just came out of my nose!”

To be clear, the aforementioned stinky smells are NOT of my own making! 

Also, I’m clearly a medical marvel.  (And remember the one time rice came out of my squishy eye?  Yeah, I should probably make a doctor’s appointment). 

Oh, and sick bumps are totally a real thing.

3) I think my wife’s greatest kryptonite is the car.  Here are the reasons for that statement: from the time that me and Jamie… or Jamie and I… or us… however that works, from the time WE have been married, whenever Jamie gets into the passenger seat of the car, she seems to fall asleep fast.  Now, I’m not just talking about long car rides where she will take a nap here and there.  I’m talking about, like we could be six blocks from our local grocery store, and Jamie will fall asleep before we hit the first stop sign.  Now, on the long car rides, my wife has this beautiful dance that she does for the drivers that pass by.  I affectionately call it the open-mouth, jello-neck head bob.  Over the years, she has tried to improve this dance by laying back her seat a little, buying a fancy neck pillow, but my favorite of all, is when she holds onto my arm on the arm rest, leans her head on my shoulder, and her head will slowly roll all the way down to my wrist, and then she’ll wake up, laugh, say “I’m sorry,” and go right back to sleep.

The second reason why a car is her kryptonite is this -  My wife can tell you where anything in the house is.  She can tell me where anything is in her office, or my office, but when she gets in the car, she cannot find the McDonald’s that is two turns from our house.  It is sweet to see that, after living in Tulsa for over a year, she is starting to remove her post-it note directions from her dash board. 

The last reason is that after my wife comes out of a store, our car seems to become invisible to where she could walk right past it and not see it. 

Dude, I have to sleep when I can get it, and the car just happens to be one of my favorite places to catch a few zzz’s... well, when I can find it.  Hey, do you think if I could stay awake, I could learn my way around town?

4) In the previous blog, my wife had talked about the addiction that I have to shoes.  She shares this addiction with me.  The only difference is all of my shoes are the same size.  There have been many a shoe that I have loved, but if it is not available in a size 14, it’s not for me.  Jamie will wear shoes from a size 3 to an 11, depending on if the shoes look good, can match an outfit, or make her above 5’6 (which, by the way, requires 4 inch heels).

These accusations are wildly exaggerated.  I own shoes ranging from a 6 to an 8.  Okay, one pair of 5 ½ and one pair of 8 ½.  But really, if the shoes are cute enough, is a pinky toe that much of a sacrifice?

5) I’ll tell you just a bit about our morning routine.  When Jamie gets out of bed, I will usually lie there for another 15 minutes or so.  At this point, she has left the room to enter into what we know as the morning vortex.  I go and get Micah out of bed, get him dressed, fix his lunch, fix his hair, make him brush his teeth if I think about it, hopefully we find his glasses, get myself ready, make us both breakfast, and then we’re off to school (or the bus stop).  Sometimes during this routine, my chick-a-pea will pop her head out of the vortex and say a hello, remind me of something I have forgotten, and send us off with an “I love you,” before disappearing back into the unknown place.  Then I will head off to work.  Approximately 17 hours later, Jamie will finally arrive in her glorious, gorgeous, grandeur.  Where is she all that time?  What is she doing?  Are there cookies there?  How many licks does it take to the get to the center of tootsie pop?  The world may never know.

Some things will just always be a mystery.

All of these things and many more make up who my bride is.  Though some things might seem weird to others, they are all things that I love.  They make her special. They make her unique.  They make her my Jamie.

Uh… kisses or whatever.

Well done, my love.  But still, you are so much weirder than I am!

Kisses!

First of all, a little disclaimer…

My dearest husband reads every single one of my blogs (whether he wants to or not!) before I post them, and he has been a tremendous sport allowing me to reveal some silly things about him.  I would never publish things that he didn’t want me to reveal.  Well, at least not on this blog.  I write all those things under a pseudonym.

To be fair, Jay is going to be guest blogging to reveal some of my crazy idiosyncrasies (good luck finding any, JAY!  I’m as normal as they come!)

So, on to number one…

I have been racking my brain to think of what would be the strangest, wackiest, oddest quirk about Jay.  I mean, I’ve shared some pretty nutty stuff.  Let’s recap!

10. Jay has very odd things in his pockets.  Since that post, I’ve also discovered some hemp rope, a container of blackberry preserves, and the butt of a plastic lizard.  Way to prove me wrong, dude.

9. Jay has crazy eating habits.  Last night, at exactly 12:37 a.m., Jay got out of bed and declared that he was heading to the kitchen to make a burrito.  In the last 24 hours, he has consumed eight… count ‘em…. Eight peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Just a snack

8. Jay is strangely obsessed with his facial hair.  Today, at a super store, he purchased mustache finger tattoos, mustache picture frames, mustache magnets, mustache stickers for his computer, and three mustache baskets (to hold mustache grooming utensils I suspect).  These were all essentials, obviously.

7. Jay has his own language.   The other day, he and Micah were rough-housing on the floor, or as Jay calls it - RASSLIN’.

6. Jay can be a stinker… and he thinks it’s hilarious.  I discovered that he also thinks it’s hilarious when others are stinkers.  I had to nearly jump on his shoulders piggy-back style to stop him from giving a high five to a man who very obviously lit an aisle of the grocery store on fire.

5. Jay’s hobbies are a little too girly for me.  Today he was telling me about an idea he had to upcycle old paint cans.  He prefaced it by saying, “I didn’t get this idea on pinterest so you can’t make fun of me.  I got the idea in a craft magazine.”  Uh… yeah.  That’s better.

4. Jay has a wonderful/lousy memory.  This week, I made him a to-do list.  I think he forgot where he put it.

3. Jay will do just about anything for a good cause… and sometimes, just for a good laugh.  Like this one time, when Jay, then a professional clown, was in the middle of  a crowded store when he spotted his fiancé.  He honked the horn on his oversized tricycle until everyone looked at him, then he stood up, ran and slid on his knees, stopping in front of a very red-faced me, and sang at the top of his lungs, “Quit playing games with my heart!”

2. Jay makes the strangest noises while he sleeps.  I totally forgot to talk about the sleep-convos he has with me!!  That could (and will!) be another whole blog.

So what deserves the highly coveted number one spot?  Should it be the fact that he has everything from hillbilly country to gangsta rap on his ipod? 

Party like a rock star

 Or the fact that he has an insane passion for shoes (He has triple the amount I have, and I’m definitely not shoe-shy!)?  Perhaps it could be that he secretly takes and texts pictures of anything he thinks I might find funny… including miscellaneous people?  

No…

I think the strangest thing about this man of mine…

Is that despite every other choice he could have had in life….

Despite the places he could have gone and the adventures he could have had…

Despite it all….

He chose me.

And keeps choosing me everyday.

Weirdo.

Sleeping Beauty

When Jay and I first got married and started to share a home together, there were definitely some little surprises that we both had to get used to.  Jay, for instance, had to get used to the fact that for the first year or so, I’d actually request for him to leave or at least busy himself on the other end of the house, while I used the bathroom.  He also had to learn to live with the fact that I’m highly claustrophobic, and since I, at 5’2, cannot stand to have either my arms or my feet covered up, his 6’5 frame was barely left with a blanket belt of cover at night.  He also had to handle the fact that I'm comfortable for about three minutes before I need to toss and turn. 

I, in turn, had to get used to…

Wonderfully Weird Fact about Jay #2 – He makes the strangest noises while he sleeps.

Jay is a bit of a snorer.  Sometimes it’s very quiet and soft.  Sometimes I fear he may suck the drapes off the wall.  (Jay CLAIMS that I’ve been known to snore as well.  I’ve yet to see evidence of such a preposterous allegation)  The snoring is pretty easy to deal with.  It really only happens every once in a while.  Much harder to ignore is the other noise he makes.  It’s something between a moan and scream.  I liken it to a demon attempting to escape.  Seriously, once Jay went to a men’s retreat, and the person he roomed with later sent me a sympathy card.  It’s pretty bad.

When I was first learning to share a bed with my groom, and this noise would begin to echo out into the night (neighbor dogs, coyotes, and werewolves would howl back in response), I would, ever so gently, slide my foot across the bed and kick him with all my might.  Then, when he sat up startled, I would pretend to be asleep (and wish myself to actual sleep before he had a chance to resume the chanting).

These days, I’ve grown accustomed to my nighttime soundtrack, and, in fact, miss it when he’s gone.  

But just so you’ll get the full picture, here’s a little taste of what I hear when I curl up in Jay’s little nook at night –

(I’m not smart enough to know how to reorient this so that it’s not sideways!)