This is the view that my children will call home. I pray my children will ALWAYS want to come home.

If I had a dollar for every eighteen year old that says, “I can’t wait to move out and do whatever I want!” we could pay off the National Deficit. I probably said this, too, but the joke was on me as I lived at home in college. My first experience “away” from home was the day I got married when I was twenty-two. I’m serious. The poor husband had to listen to sobs of agony and defeat as I proclaimed my undying devotion to a house somewhere in Terry, Mississippi, for several months. Bless his heart. Since that time, my parents have lived in Fondren (a neighborhood of Jackson, MS) and now they live in Madison. After 23 years on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, I only get homesick when the moon is full on a Tuesday. Just kidding, but it does happen on occasion.

Our eldest child came home from college last night and arrived at one in the morning. Yes, I waited up for him. Just as I drive a typical mom tank, I also did the typical college child is home prepping. Homemade goodies. Check. Clean bathroom and sheets. Check. Porch light on… you get the picture. I would be fine with him coming home EVERY weekend, but he’d played baseball all day and the timing was concerning for me. “Please call me if you get sleepy.” I said. Why would he want to make an almost four hour drive this time of night? Something must be wrong.

All week I had beat myself up for not going several hours away to see his game. With two other children and a job, it just wasn’t possible. As teens sometimes do, he wouldn’t text me back after I would text him just to check on him, see if he needed anything, or say I was sorry that I can’t make all the games. Clark is a very thoughtful young man, but my emotions get the best of me, and I thought surely he didn’t need me anymore. Was he upset at me?

As he walked in the door, he put down his blue IKEA bag…. a sure sign of laundry. As I turned to walk inside the kitchen, he stopped me with a bear hug. “I’m so glad you’re home.” I said. “Are you okay?” “Yes, ma’am. I just needed to come home.” “Is something wrong, Clark?” “No. Just needed to come home. That’s all.” Home. Treats, clean sheets, and unconditional love…. not a grade on a paper or a statistic on the ballfield.

Welcome home, son.

Spend time with those you love. One of these days you will say either, “I wish I had,” or “I’m glad I did.”

Zig Ziglar

I missed my son’s first pitching experience in a college baseball game. I missed my son’s first pitching experience in a college baseball game. My husband was there. I wasn’t. I’m devastated.

I’ve been to many college baseball games. My husband played college baseball and my boyfriend before him. They were on the same team. It’s cool. I promise. Our older son plays college baseball now, and I watched his first game today. His college isn’t quite four hours away, but the game was 30 minutes east of us in Mobile, Alabama. Have you ever been in the middle of an experience and just know in your heart that it’s life-changing? It’s almost as if you are trying to remember every detail and soaking the whole experience in… and wishing it would never end. That was me today.

The first game was fun. I got to hug my son and watch his wonderful team. My mother-in-law watched little man at home. We didn’t think our son would pitch today. She kept little man last night so I could watch my daughter cheer at a football game. I felt like asking her to stay for the second baseball game today was selfish on my part. No good deed goes unpunished, and he was put on the mound pitching as I was opening popsicles and making ham sandwiches at home.

To say I’m grateful to see my son play baseball is an understatement. To say I’m grateful to watch my daughter cheer at football games is an understatement. There was recently a link (article) on Facebook about the importance of parents attending EVERY game their children play. Every game, huh? Here, mama bear needs to unload.

Do you work like I do? Great. You “prolly gone” miss some games.

Have a small child? I absolutely understand. Small children can’t necessarily tolerate a full day of sports. Again, you’re going to miss some games.

Game is four hours away? Yep. Can’t make that trip, huh? It’s understandable. Sometimes you’re going to miss that away game.

What’s that? Yep. Your OTHER child has a game the same stinking night? It happens. You’re going to miss one of their games to be at the other. Sucks deviled eggs, doesn’t it?

Let me tell you about being at every game.

When I was sick my whole pregnancy and on the couch with contractions, my heart was at every game.

When I miss a game because I don’t have childcare, my heart is at every game.

When a game is away and I can’t make it due to work, my heart is at every game.

And if you love your children an ounce as much as I do, your heart and your prayers are with them. Everywhere, all the time…. at every game.

I’ve learned that home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling.

Cecelia Ahern

As much as I’m looking forward to fall and even the holidays, I tend to “stress out” over my house this time of year. Images in magazines, online, and social media show beautifully appointed porches with an assortment of pumpkins, mums, and various other decorations. We live “out” where not too many people see our house. Also, I’m trying to be financially wise as my husband isn’t back at work yet due to back surgery. I don’t naturally have a decorator’s eye, but I do know what I like. There’s also the challenge of time. It takes time and energy to make a house look like a Pinterest board.

I got sick this week. On Tuesday, I started getting a scratchy throat. In my line of work, that’s never a good sign. Wednesday was about the same… by Friday I was having trouble talking. Saturday I thought a train had hit me. Break out the antibiotic. I had full intentions of decorating for fall, but between feeling awful and the weather still imitating summer, none of the decorating commenced.

My eldest came home from college Friday night to hugs and a partially redecorated (and clean) room. I missed him so much, and was more than happy to have him and a friend of his come with him. Our middle child spent time at the movies and decorating for homecoming with classmates. She and a friend decided last minute to go to homecoming. Really, sweetheart? Last year we spent four hours in one place. Tears, weeping, and gnashing of teeth were included in the harrowing “errand.” Not this year. “Mommy’s sick. You have 20 minutes flat to pick one,” I said. Y’all. She found one in 15 minutes! We came home (by this time I had chills) and I got in bed.

We missed church Sunday because I’m not a fan of sharing my germs with nice people. Seriously. Azithromycin is like gold, but it takes awhile to start working. I was able to spend a little time with the caboose baby. He’s precious, y’all. We played puzzles, walked around outside (later when it wasn’t hot), and read before bedtime. He pointed to the mommy in the book and asked quizzically, “Dat’s da mommy?” “Yes, precious.” I said. “That’s Elmo’s mommy.” “You MY mommy.” He stated emphatically. Goodness, he’s sweet.

As I get in bed early, still feeling drained from my cold, I look around and my mind begins to race. There is a bowl beside the bed of leftover soup, there are clean clothes in the laundry room, and more clothes to wash. I need to look up ideas for an apple theme (I teach preschool). “What have I done this weekend?” I think to myself.

My eldest went back to college with clean clothes and homemade goodies because I stayed up late to be a blessing to him.

My daughter experienced the excitement of a last-minute homecoming find because I took the time to take her (even though I didn’t feel the best).

My baby got to snuggle and spend time with his momma because I made time for him (who wouldn’t… he’s a doll).

And I made a decision. My family comes before this house. I like a clean house. I really like a decorated house. But houses are made to be lived in, so I will do my best. I will decorate for fall…eventually. Because this isn’t just a house. We love, live, and, yes, make memories and messes here.

This house is a home.

So the mom jeans on the left (1990’s… my era) have returned. However, I’m a midlife girl living in a VSCO world.

Y’all. It happened again. I got stuck in a dress. You’ll recall our heroine (I mean me…sorry) going to an upscale resale shop in Mobile, Alabama, to try her luck at finding the perfect Mardi Gras gown. She duly gets stuck in said gown neither being able to slip off the binding garment, nor being able to pull it over her big head. A millionairess comes to her aid, and, thus, her journey to Dilliard’s department store begins . She finds her perfect dress and lives happily ever after for three solid hours. The end.

This latest episode took place in a local boutique. I won’t say where. They probably prefer advertising from someone who’s never used eye cream or has the road map of Highway 90 on her spider veins. I’m two for two. Touché. Anyway, there was a beautiful, sleeveless black dress that had a tasteful black lace overlay and high, jewel neckline. I knew it had to be gorgeous because I was wearing my progressive lenses.

Being that I shop for myself only when the moon aligns with Jupiter, I was excited. Well, as you already know, I got stuck in the dress. Technically, I never quite got the dress all the way on my body. Who makes a dress with a zipper that stops three fourths of the way down the side? My guess is either a man or someone shaped like a spaghetti noodle. As I proceeded to try on five other items that were too tight, too short, too young….. I began to reminisce.

Picture it. The mid-1990’s. There’s a girl with teased hair, mom jeans, a scrunchie, and a choker necklace. She has it easy in the makeup department as the ONLY acceptable skin care for a proper young lady is Clinique’s three-step program. She has her pick of five Cover Girl foundations from which to choose. The Limited is the bomb diggity, and those duck shoes come in handy on a rainy day. Turn up the Nirvana, please. “Let’s take a picture, y’all!” It will be ready in three days and if it’s REALLY good, we will put it……. somewhere.

Some of the 1990’s trends have come back around. Mom jeans, scrunchies, and chokers… oh my! On the other hand, today’s girls have it tough! Social media is cruel. We just wrote notes and had actual conversations. The horror. I was thinking about all the filters on these phones nowadays. How are the poor fellows going to know what these girls actually look like? It’s got to be disappointing when you finally meet in real life and Suzy Q.’s tan was computerized. I mean, we didn’t have filters. “You get what you get and you don’t fuss a bit” has always been my motto with the guys. I forgot eyeliner one time and three people asked me if I had the flu.

The latest label is that of the VSCO girl. We didn’t have a label (I don’t think). Allie oop, okey dokey, beanie weenie, sksksk. Not really sure about the VSCO lingo… sounds like a teenage red rover game or something. These poor girls have to choose from 5000 brands of makeup, spend too much money on some water bottle thingy, AND save the turtles by stacking up string bracelets. Girls, I’m talking to you. This, too, shall pass. In the not so distant future, you will look upon your youth with a wistful feeling as you are changing a poopy diaper while discussing your hemorrhoids with your husband. Get ready. However, with age comes wisdom, and you’ll realize that all these trends will come back in style. So chin up, you’ll have your chance to wear these clothes again…along with your progressive lenses.

The sunrise down our road. Not bad. Not bad.

I had some funny pictures I could have used for this blog tonight. One is pretty popular right now. It says “Clocking In” (beautiful Barbie) and the other says “Clocking Out”(Barbie looks like she went through the Apocalypse). I am also proud of a recent Facebook picture that a friend posted of me. I’m guiding my preschoolers around a fire truck and look like Viola Swamp. Meanest. Teacher. Ever. The sun was in my eyes and brought out my forehead wrinkles. Y’all stop with the jealousy RIGHT NOW. So… you get the pretty sunrise picture instead. My sense of humor rivals my photography skills… a little left of center and questionable at times. Not inappropriate, mind you, just interesting. A friend mentioned today she hadn’t seen me write a new blog post in awhile. Also, I met the nicest lady at the dance studio and I mentioned that I had written a blog post about “keeping up with the So and So’s” (she and I were discussing small town things). She asked for my blog address and I changed the subject by asking her about a school TWO towns away. Y’all. I’m not the brightest star today.

I haven’t written in awhile. Am I afraid that lady’s going to read my blog and not like it? Have I not written out of a sense of fear? Let’s see. I have diagnosed myself with blog ADD. I’m serious. I could sit and just write and write, but separating subject matter is an entirely different challenge. Husband’s recovery from major back surgery. Oldest at college. Teenage daughter. Toddler. Preschool adventures. The most unflattering picture of me, EVER. Yes, it deserves its own entry🤣. Material for days. Also, I try not to entirely embarrass my family. Blogs are serious AND funny…. filtering one’s personal life is tricky when trying to relate personal experiences with the reader. There’s so much I’d love to share and will when it’s appropriate. We all like to think someone else understands our struggles (or sense of humor!).

All this to say that I’m going to be writing about having a child in college, raising strong daughters, being tired a lot🤣 (really, y’all), being middle-age with a toddler, and getting up fighting when you just want to throw the towel at someone/something/life. So take care this weekend. Sip your coffee, say a prayer, look at the sunrise, or, when it’s too much…. take a nap and call it a day. I got your back. And I won’t even tell the So and So’s.

Cue the violins.

Not today, Satan. Oh, boy. Isn’t that one of those memes/sayings that’s rampant on social media? Well, somebody didn’t want me to write this because my phone kept freezing up, so there you go. Also, I’m “living my best life” today. Just kidding. I used that phrase because I’m middle-age and I can’t help it. See this picture above? This is not only the latest text I’ve sent my husband, but also the the subject of our last conversation. Cue the violins.

During a conversation with another mom this week, she said that her life feels like it’s in a rut. Go to work. Come home. Take care of family life. Repeat. Lady, you read my mind. The only difference is that I’m weird and think of it as a real-life scene from Groundhog Day. Poor Bill Murray….. wash clothes, go to Wally World, make 1432 doctor’s appointments,help with homework, go to work. You get the jist.

Staying in my lane is hard. (my new phrase… also a popular saying. I’m so cool😂) I’ll just merge into Suzy Q’s lane. Suzy got it going on. Weekend getaways with the hubby… and even sometimes with her girlfriends. Suzy Q just got off a magazine cover and I have back sweat from being out at recess. I used to think I should have finished nursing school. “You’re a nurse? So glamorous!” Those medical shows don’t help, either. I’m pretty sure there are no Dr. McDreamer what’s-his-names in EVERY hospital. After my husband’s surgery, I realized there wasn’t one glamorous task assigned to his nurses. These nurses worked hard and did lots of seemingly menial jobs. It made me appreciate what I do every day as a teacher. It’s important. Every job is important. Don’t compare. Be who God created you to be.

I’m beginning to feel as if my blogs are unpredictable (kinda like if I’m going to wake up with “eye bags” or not). Wait. I always wake up with eye bags. My bad! And isn’t that the struggle? It’s the same thing EVERY. STINKING. DAY. Wash the same clothes, unload the dishes, AGAIN. Get on that homework, Junior. And why did I register for all that stupid china 124 years ago when I got married? We don’t entertain. It sits in the china closet mocking me. All my hopes and dreams in a pattern of cream and gold called “Eternal”. Eternal? Yeah, this house is eternally cluttered. Go to the meeting. Pay the bills. It’s enough to make me hide in the pantry with my devotional and a Keurig (cause I’m basic).

What’s a girl to do? Ima copy and paste this because I say the same thing every time. The answer is… I don’t have an answer. I will say this, though. Don’t go there, and if you should traipse through this place called Status Quo, take a detour. Try a new restaurant, leave the housework undone and go outside or get really defiant and go to Target. Look around you at the simple beauty of a flower or a bird (we have cows where I live..love them). Thank God for your family, your job, your life. Don’t feel guilty about getting down sometimes. God gave us a variety of emotions. I’m a happy person, but y’all….. I can’t smile constantly. It ain’t natural😂!

Now I’m going to get out of my own rut and do something wild and crazy. Book and bed. That’s right! I’m doing something for me. It doesn’t cost anything and I’ll be better mother and wife for it.

Cue the violins.

This has been a busy, blessed, and hard time in my life. Hard doesn’t mean “bad”. It’s a time of growing pains. Growing pains are a sign of life. Life is good. If you’re struggling, don’t give up.

It’s been so long since I’ve written, I’ll probably say something I already said. I’m tired. You know the meme that says, “God…” and all the prayers spill out and are jumbled? Yep. Guilty over here. My writing seems to reflect my prayers… except that I pray a heck of a lot more than I write. I miss this. I also miss writing about getting stuck in Mardi Gras dresses, botched hair highlights, and babies that make Mama Bear delirious from lack of sleep. You know, the funny stuff. Sometimes life doesn’t hand us stand-up material. That’s okay. I usually think it’s funny anyway.

I started this blog back in December (the olden days of walking uphill both ways five miles in the snow). Yep. Still a newbie. Wet behind the ears. AMATEUR. Much has changed. Much is still the same. I’m still an amateur. I’m also tired Oh, yeah. I mentioned that in the first paragraph… sorry! I wish I waxed poetic like No Mama’s Perfect, wrote eloquently like Amy Weatherly, or was hilarious like Whoa Susanna. ”Tis me, though, and ‘its me you’ll get.

Blogs are a tricky sort (I’ve been watching Hallmark and love my new vocabulary 😂). Some of the aforementioned bloggers share LOTS. There is always a fine line between relating to others’ experiences and giving up a part of one’s privacy. I want so badly to share personal experiences and struggles because I know everyone has their own battles, so maybe there’s a small chance I’m not the weird one! Or, better yet, MAYBE I can encourage someone else struggling with the same hurts. My intention is never to make anyone uncomfortable or sound like I’m “whining”. I’m a firm believer that we all can come together in our similar states.

Another trait I hope to possess is the ability to be real. I always appreciate the memes that say something like, “If the grass is greener on the other side, it’s probably full of crap.” Or, “Maybe she’s born with it, or maybe it’s 5000 filters.” I, for one, have never used a filter on a photograph or otherwise (I’m not referring to “bad” language… I’m just very generous with my insights, i.e. opinionated😂). Never do I presume to know everything (or anything… especially after teaching and attempting to raise my own children). I just like real people. Remember, real doesn’t equal rude.

This particular blog post is sounding a lot like Seinfeld… a lot about nothing! Between my husband’s back surgery, going back to work, and moving my oldest to college, I’ve just fallen behind on writing…. and I’ve missed it. I’ve changed. Yes, it’s possible. I’ve changed in just a few weeks, and I’ll bet you’ve done this, too. Life is full of change, and not all of it is bad. But more on that later. In the meantime, have a happy weekend, and I just wanted to drop by and say hey. Next time, I promise to discuss hair color, ballgowns, or better yet, my ever-evolving sleep habits. Have a great weekend!

The first time that I saw your face,

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I held you and kissed your tiny head,

Sweet baby boy of mine.

When you were just a little boy

And afraid of things at night,

I hugged you and I prayed for you

That you would be alright.

When you felt bad for something you’d done,

I listened and and hugged you tight,

Saying a forgiveness prayer,

And God made it all alright.

Your teen years seemed to go so fast,

And still I hugged you tight,

But this time looked up in your eyes,

A young man about to fly.

I sense you’re not quite ready for this thing that they call “fly”,

And though I’d never let you know, it’s true…. neither am I.

See that tree in the middle? I have another picture of it zoomed in so that it looks alone. Obviously, the tree stands among others. I could fool you with my camera if I so chose to do. This is my favorite tree. I can see it outside of my bedroom window, from the front porch, and from the circular swing that hangs under an oak tree dripping with Spanish moss. A picture can show the totality of the reality surrounding it, or it show only what the photographer wants it to show. In other words, a picture can be deceiving.

I wish I could put this particular moment of the picture in a bottle. Baby boy and I are on the circle swing. I can hear some tree frogs and I call his attention to the sound. The wind softly rustles the Spanish moss that is casually tossed onto the tall, wide oaks. A lone boat comes by, and Baby Boy points to it. I can simultaneously smell the river and grass . If one opened a bottle containing this moment, I believe it would drift softly around that person and make him/her feel completely at peace. It would seem by my description that everything is as it should be.

This moment with my son is just a snapshot in time. The rest of the day was a struggle. I didn’t feel well.. at all. It was hard to get anything done. I made the mistake of comparing my life to those on social media. Remember, a picture can only show part of the story. God didn’t intend you or me to live someone else’s life. Someone will have more materially, his/her marriage, job, parenting, and health may be easier… but not everything. Everyone has hurt that a picture just can’t show…. or that we don’t want to show. We can never know the bigger picture. That’s why it’s important to always be kind.

So many times I see this tree from the window when I’m hurting and think about how strong and defiant it is in the face of terrible heat, storms, and even hurricanes. I look at this tree when I’m outside playing with my toddler and I’m taken by the beauty in its off-kilter shape and green, shiny leaves. In the winter, it’s bare branches remind me that there are seasons in life that are not permanent. The tree is bare, but life inside that tree is just waiting to show itself in spring. I used to dislike winter. Now I try to think of it as a season of rest, just like I need to learn to rest in the knowledge that God is still in control even when it seems like life is unraveling.

And that’s how I believe this so-called life goes. God didn’t intend for everything to be easy ALL the time. We need His guidance in both the easy and the hard times. It has been said that one can’t appreciate the mountains if not for the valleys. Maybe I word the sentiment differently, but the message is still the same. The hard times make us much more thankful for the easy times. And when I look at the big picture, those hard circumstances are just a snapshot in time.

Can we chat? Feel free to “X” out of this blog before we get started. As a Christian, my first reaction (well…. should be) is to pray when it gets tough (it=life). Sometimes I ain’t so good at that. My first reaction sometimes is to act like a whiny-tail baby and pout. And complain. And… get the picture? Therapists are good (when they’re good), but I LOVE to write. There’s almost a feeling like a balloon is about to pop, but then someone lets it go. There’s a release in writing.

Today was our twenty-third anniversary. The pastor who married us told us in premarital counseling that the “intense fire” we felt for each other would settle down to a “fireside chat”. “How dare he?” I thought. “He doesn’t know how we feel. We will always have this flame and it’s not going anywhere!”

Pastor Dan knew what he was talking about.

Don’t get me wrong. Obviously, we love each other and we make gorgeous children… even in midlife (some people our age get new, fancy cars and pay off mortgages, but we’re more fun than those people 😂). When you’ve been married long enough, it gets, well, comfortable. Husband’s tend to forget about getting their wives a favorite flower. Wives tend to get complacent about cooking a favorite meal. The pile of bills seems insurmountable. Ballgames replace date night. The mystery is gone once you’ve helped your spouse get through a stomach virus. Diaper duty. And the list never ends.

My husband had surgery several days ago. He’s unfortunately feeling the aftermath. It’s been hard. We have a toddler who’s trying to be on his best behavior around “daddy’s hurt”. We’ve not been on a vacation with our family or weekend away as a couple in several years. I think our dog actually went somewhere this summer. Every time I’ve gotten on social media, everyone I know is somewhere with their family or as a couple. Even today on our anniversary, I see other couples going somewhere on THEIR anniversaries.

I could lie and say, “It’s okay! No biggie!” As a woman, and professing Christian, it seems to be a big “no-no” to whine about such things. “Just be grateful.” “Look at the bright side.” FYI: I’m VERY grateful and I try to encourage everyone else around me. Sometimes we women just have to have “a moment “(i.e. a good cry) and that’s okay, too. It’s normal and acceptable to want to celebrate an anniversary or feel like “you still got it”. It’s normal to look at the dishes/laundry/bathtub ring/toys on the floor and think “If I have to do one more thing around this house, Imma have a meltdown.” Look, life is hard sometimes and can we just acknowledge that fact?

So what is a woman to do? Do you want the answer? Well, I’m going to let you down because I don’t have any. I’m in my pj’s writing this blog. No answers. Just me. But here’s what I’ll do, and you can do this, too.

Pray.

Cry.

Go to therapy if you must.

Talk to a friend.

Write.

And just keep going. Don’t give up. Don’t stop. You’re stronger than you know. I’m glad we had this chat.

Sometimes… sometimes it just be like that.