50 Posts: That Thing that Happened in High School...

Today's post prompt: "That thing that happened in high school that pretty much changed your life forever"…

Mostly, I try not to think about high school. People normally claim middle school as awkward and traumatic but high school was far worse for me.

All schools are cliquish but private schools are the worst. Because parents get involved. I went to two different high schools, both were private. I graduated valedictorian of a class of 9 and one of the mothers tried to get my grades not to count because I had transferred in. In the tenth grade. From a more academically challenging school. Apparently 3 years at a school is not enough to prove yourself. People can be absurd and hurtful.

That's the kind of crap I faced in high school. I was awkward and shy but I tried to make friends. It did not matter: my classmates didn't like me. Probably because their parents didn't like me. 

So I try not to think about high school.

A few good things did happen those four years: 
I learned French. 
I painted. 
I skipped class (a lot). 
I ate fried okra from a gas station. 
I went on Senior Lunches to Zelly's Pub. 

One day, in history class, I declared, "I'd love to live in Scotland for a year." As I said it, I thought to myself, "No. No, you wouldn't. You're excited about college and being close to family and growing slowly and incrementally." (Okay, maybe I didn't talk to myself about growth at the time… but the thought was there somewhere.) My history teacher jumped on that fleeting spoken-aloud thought of mine and started a chain of events that I couldn't stop. I found myself 5 months later on a jet plane to 43 Hyndford Street, just off Blackness Avenue in sunny Dundee, Scotland.

Because of that moment:
- I met some of the most incredible people who pushed my heart deeper and closer to The Lord
- I lived with a family from whom I am modeling many of my parenting decisions
- I went to College of Charleston instead of FSU
- Which, in turn, is why I ended up at Clemson (Go Tigers!)
- At Clemson, I met Brandon

The rest, as they say, is history.

[This post is a part of 50 Posts series in which I blog about 50 various subjects from 9.20.13 to 9.20.14. Inspired by and adapted from] Fat Mum Slim.

50 Posts: Celebrity Dinner

Were I to host a celebrity dinner, I'd limit the total attendance count to 6. If too many people attend, we would not all be able to converse together and I would miss precious time getting to know my new celebrity friends. I am picturing my celebrity dinner would end up a bit like the movie Clue. (You want to come now, don't you?)

Here's the invitation list:

• Louis Zamperini (I can't help it. I need to meet this man.)
• Wes Anderson (Is he as strange as his films?)
• Cormac McCarthy (Will he say a word the whole night?)
• Adrian Brody
• Myself
• Brandon Loy

I only invited men, I know, but this group would have lively, weird, and memorable conversation for sure. Entertaining requires careful balance of characters :)



[This post is a part of 50 Posts series in which I blog about 50 various subjects from 9.20.13 to 9.20.14. Inspired by and adapted from] Fat Mum Slim.

50 Posts: 2018 Facebook Status

Although the chances of my still using Facebook in 5 years are fairly slim, my FB status in 2018 would likely be:

Only five more years of climbing... then it's all downhill. Happy 35 to me!

[This post is a part of 50 Posts series in which I blog about 50 various subjects from 9.20.13 to 9.20.14. Inspired by and adapted from Fat Mum Slim.]

50 Posts: 9 Things I do not Handle Well

This post has no pictures. You don't want them. I promise.

1. Roaches (x1000)
2. Mold
3. Translucent, albino looking worms in my yard (I only see them at night)
4. Black Licorice (gross!)
5. Aspartame
6. Sun-Ripened Raspberry lotion from Bath and Body Works (I know its discontinued but the idea of it makes me queasy.)
7. Unwashed egg pans
8. Cold dirty dishwater
9. Mice and/or rats

[This post is a part of 50 Posts series in which I blog about 50 various subjects from 9.20.13 to 9.20.14. Inspired by and adapted from] Fat Mum Slim.

50 Posts: The Hardest Experience

August turns 6 months old tomorrow. Everyone tells you: "Enjoy every moment because before you know it, he'll be headed off to college." This reminder hasn't really been necessary as the first six months of August's life have been the most difficult experience I've had to walk through. I don't mean the newborn stage has been difficult (which it has in the normal sense) but that we've also walked through quite a trial as a family. I've been all too aware of time's passing.

I was home with August for 10 weeks. I cried almost daily thinking about leaving him to go back to work. Brandon and I both wanted me to be home, but Brandon felt some pause. He wanted me to return for a month or so. We enlisted my mom's help until we could sort our plan. I returned to work part-time, August had special Lulah-time, and Brandon kept working. Two weeks in, Brandon was laid off. I was devastated. I knew I was supposed to be home and suddenly, we didn't even know if we'd have a home. And so, I sort of sunk into a semi-depressed, crying-out-to-God state. I started working full-time and August had lots of Daddy-time. We all just held on and waited. I cherished my evenings with August. (I actually enjoyed getting up for night feeds.) I had nothing to offer anyone; I was drained and aching. I folded inward, prayed, watched August grow and waited.

Brandon was home with August for 10 weeks. We packed the car and drove to Orlando for the Loy/ Pyne family vacation. We knew we needed to be with family and were excited to have a mental break from Charleston. We arrived at our hotel and were in the lobby waiting for our room to be ready. Brandon's phone rang. He handed me August and walked away. I immediately thought, "I wonder if it's a job offer!" but then told myself to be reasonable. August and I watched the indoor fountain and bubbling stream. I kept looking at Brandon across the room. He was smiling but he'd be smiling talking to his brother or mom or whoever. Then, he gave me a thumbs up. Of course, I started crying. I hugged August hard, breathed out and said, "I am coming home, buddy."

We overlapped working for a few weeks to transition into Brandon's job and out of mine. He is still finding his feet at the new place and adjusting to a laid back environment in which they cater casual work parties, pass out beer at 3:30 on a Friday afternoon, and pay for weekly massages for all employees. October 4th was my last day in the office working for The Writer's Muse. I am really leaving the project at a great time for me mentally: two of the products are launched and two are ready and waiting for the marketing to coincide with the launch. Leaving was bittersweet as I will miss the project and my co-workers. But coming home is incredible.

My friend, Emily, who has been my main source of encouragement over the past six months, recently posted a quote by G.K. Chesterton on motherhood:

"How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone and narrow to be everything to someone? No, a woman's function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute."

I have come home to be "everything to someone," and I am overwhelmed with gratitude that this is my calling. Brandon and I both have a drastically different view of our priorities that has been cemented in our hearts. More change is afoot for our little family...


[This post is a part of 50 Posts series in which I blog about 50 various subjects from 9.20.13 to 9.20.14. Inspired by and adapted from] Fat Mum Slim.