Katie. She’s seven. She’s smart, cute, funny, artistic, loves to dance, and still screams. She came into this house at 11 months old screaming. She woke up basically every morning that first year (or two?) kicking and screaming. She went to sleep most nights and naps screaming. She screamed through her adoption. She has not screamed *every day* of her life, but I would guess that she has probably at least cried every single day of her life. That is not an exaggeration.

Six and a half years into this and I’m so tired. Our whole family is tired. What do you do when the child is seven years old and will still, on occasion, just lay on the floor and scream and cry? When the slightest provocation will result in crying. When she can’t even answer the simplest question without crying. When no consequences seem to make a significant difference.

Unfortunately, she won’t be having as much fun this summer as she should be. She will basically have to be with either me or Phillip most of the time. We have taken just about everything away that we can and the only thing left to take away are outings with grandparents. It’s sad and we hate it, but I have to remind myself that we aren’t raising kids. We are raising productive adults. She can’t be in high school and still melting down when something doesn’t go her way. Something has to change.

It’s funny how little things can completely change the trajectory of a life.

A year ago, I found my HBU diploma while cleaning and laughed to myself how crazy it is that I’ll be paying for that piece of paper forever, but would never actually use it. Now I have a super cool job that I wouldn’t have without it, and am scheduled to start on my Master’s in two weeks. If someone had told me a year ago I would be working toward a Master’s, I would have belly laughed. No. Way.

When I started at HBU, I was actually a music major. I had been playing tenor saxophone for lots of years at that point. I was decent, but no shining star. And since music theory is basically math, I struggled in a huge way. That along with the fact that my saxophone instructor, who has since passed away God rest his soul, reeked of cigarette smoke, coffee, and Dentyne gum and had no appreciating for personal space, I decided to change my major after completing my first quarter.

I had no idea what to do that that point. My mom offered for me to just come back home. Leave HBU while you figure it out. No rush. But I knew that if I left, I’d never return. I’d never get a degree in anything. My roommate was majoring in business. “Major in business,” she said, “We can share books,” she said. And so that was how the decision was made. Without ever even giving a thought to majoring in business, I changed my major to Business Administration with an emphasis in Management. I had never managed anything, not even really my own life.

And I did well. Again, no shining star, but I graduated with a decent GPA. One of my professors was always trying to nail me down on my “goals” or whatever. “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” “What career path do you see yourself on?” I only ever wanted to be a mom. The degree was jut a back up plan. A just in case it all fell apart parachute to have. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it’s the answer I always gave her. I guess that’s why I didn’t give much thought to what I would major in. I never really had a plan to use it anyway. All I ever wanted to be was a mom.

And thankfully, God granted me that huge desire. Four fold. And I became the manager of lots of things. We intentionally set up our lives in a way that didn’t require two incomes. Eight years ago, in an effort to bring in money without having to get a “real job,” I began photography. No training. I just had a knack for it and the knack grew. Having my own business allowed me to stay home with the kids I so desperately wanted. It allowed us to make improvements to our home we otherwise wouldn’t have been able to afford. And every now and then, little nuggets of info from my days at HBU would make their way into my business and make it better.

My photography business, combined with that degree I thought I’d never use, provided the education and experience I needed to finally begin a “real” career at the age of 37. I’ll graduate with an MS in Economic Development and Entrepreneurship at the age of 41. And then who knows…

And it’s really all because of a series of seemingly insignificant, and even some irresponsible, decisions along the way. It’s because I was somewhat directionless. It’s because he smelled like cigarettes and Dentyne. It’s because of the potluck roommate. It’s because we splurged on a semi decent camera that we probably couldn’t afford. It’s because my husband thinks I can do anything. It’s because the person who is now my boss took a chance on me.

But mostly, it’s because God has directed my steps when I had no idea where I was going.

Every now and then, something is too long for Facebook, but still something worth sharing. 🙂

I took the kids to the park after school. After Katie asked if she could pee in the grass and before a stranger pointed out that Katie had on mismatched shoes, I noticed a little boy who wanted to be pushed on a swing. He looked a little younger than Brittany.

He yelled and asked his mom several times to push him. She was on her phone. So was I so I’m not being judgy about that. After all, my girl child had just asked to pee in the grass. Anyway, he was sitting on the swing, pouting. He sat there for a while. He looked like he was about to cry. I couldn’t go push him myself because I didn’t really want to any more than his mom did, to tell you the truth.

I called Britt over. She’s always looking for people to help. I told her that she should go ask that little boy if he wanted her to push him on the swing. She gladly ran over to him. I couldn’t hear her, but after she spoke to him, his entire face just lit up. He nodded with his whole little body. She pushed him for several minutes and he just smiled the whole time. Like the lay your head back and look at the sky kind of smile.

Now this is the cool part… After he got off of the swing and Brittany ran off to play, he stood by the swing and I watched that little boy push several other kids who needed help swinging. For the rest of the time that we were at the park, he pushed other kids on the swing. And smiled.

I don’t normally do any kind of cooking in the morning before school. In fact, 3 out of 5 days, my kids typically eat breakfast at school. I shoo them out to the car by 7:20 and then my job is done. But this morning, I decided to cook eggs.

Shouldn’t be a huge deal. It’s not that hard to cook eggs, but when you’re already at the maximum capacity of things to do, cooking eggs just doesn’t really fit in. I was stressed out. More than normal.

So when Mikey is doing his Mikey things… saying “chicken nugget” or “soy sauce” or “ice cream” or any combination of those plus any other words he wants, tapping on his glass incessantly, and asking all of the questions in the world, I snapped a little.

“Mikey!!! You are making me want to say EVERY bad word that I know….and I know a lot!!”

It’s really the eggs’ fault.

And later, because of the eggs, we were running late. They were all just standing there, waiting for me to bark commands as if they don’t know the things they need to do. So I said, “You guys are all just standing around with your thumbs up your butts. I don’t know how any of you get anything done.” I know, classy. Whatever.

Jackson…”Awkward…”

Mikey…”If we were doing that, we would all need to go wash our hands.”

And then we all died laughing.

I decided to cook eggs, which led to a super stressful morning that ended with us all laughing. I don’t need to cook eggs, or anything really, before taking my kids to school. Not ever again.

The story of Hatch.

Confession: After we got Chuy and he was 97%…okay, maybe 86% perfect in every way, I wanted to duplicate him. I kind of wanted ten of him. And so in my weak moments, I would occasionally look online for available piebald dachshund puppies. Shame. On. Me.

And then on Saturday, I accidentally found one. I found one that wasn’t too far of a drive that looked so much like Chuy. And my sweet husband is as much of a sucker for me as I am for cream cheese. I really don’t know why, but he gave in. I may or may not have bribed him with another guitar in the near(ish) future. I really can’t say.

So I made arrangements with the breeder to pick him up Sunday evening. The kids didn’t know. Jackson was in the know when we got Chuy so I decided he would be surprised this time around. About 15 minutes before we needed to leave for the 2 1/2 hour drive, I told Jack to get dressed and that he was coming with me. I wouldn’t tell him where we were going. I wouldn’t answer any questions. He was not pleased. When he wasn’t sleeping in the van on the way to Goliad, he was complaining and telling me this was possibly the worst day of his life. I smiled.

And then we drove up to a house in the middle of nowhere land. I secretly hoped this wasn’t just a trap to kill us. I wished that I was a gun person just for a moment. I wished at the very least that I had thought to give Phillip the address of where we were going.

Jack still had absolutely no idea why we were there. None. We walked in their very nice, but slightly doggy smelling house. They didn’t kill us at all, but instead, showed us to a pen with two sweet little puppies. Jack’s eyes got big and he said, “Are we…?” I nodded. And he sat down in the kitchen of the people who didn’t kill us and held this sweet puppy. He said it was worth the drive.

And so far, it hasn’t been the worst decision of my life. Not by a long shot. Chuy and Hatch, both named after Chuy’s, our favorite restaurant, are getting along so great! They have both played a little too rough. Chuy doesn’t quite understand how little Hatch is or how big he is. Chuy is over 20 pounds now! Hatch is 5.5. Chuy is being a good big brother. Chuy even allows the puppy to eat out his bowl while he’s eating out of it. Hatch is doing unbelievably well with house training. I’m shocked! And right now, they are both curled up together in one kennel sleeping.

Yeah, I think this might just work out just fine. And I promised never to look online for puppies again. The end.