Author: jnadile13@gmail.com

Took all three to the grocery today. I do that often. But today I was in no shape. Even after a “pep” talk that involved a great number of threats, a trip that should have taken 35 minutes took almost two hours. 

I ran over each boy with the cart at least twice. We made two trips to the restroom, for all three kids. BTW: my boys think it’s a sin to use the women’s restroom now. 

We looked at the fish. One hid in multiple clothes racks and jumped out to scare us. The baby pulled three shirts from the hangers. All in all, it wasn’t terrible. But I. Was. Done. 

This particular store has mostly self checkout lines. The boys insisted on buying toys for my in-laws’ dog. I obliged. 

At the checkout line—- I am scanning our items. I have trained the 6-year-old to bag groceries while I self-check. Child labor, schmild labor.  The lady overseeing self-checkout must have felt sorry for him and came to assist him. 

The rubber chicken/duck we were purchasing for the cousin-dog didn’t have a tag. I’m sure it once had a tag. But between the oldest and the baby throwing it and chewing on it, the tag was gone. The lady approached me. She looked it over. She asked if it had a tag. I told her I’m sure it did. She looked at me long and hard. 

I think she saw the despair in my eyes. The despair at the thought of spending 3 more minutes at that station while she searched for a price and a code. 

She told me it didn’t squeak anymore–which I’m certain was due to the 11 minutes it spent with my children, and said, “it’s ok. It doesn’t work. Just take it.”
I just want to say thank you to that young lady. Not because the $4 would make a difference in our already depeleting family funds. But for noticing that I was done. I was spent. And I had nothing left to stand and wait for a price check on a plastic duck with a squeaker for my mother-in-law’s dog. She will never know how much her kindness is appreciated— Unless she has three unruly children. In that case, she might. Much love to all beautiful women out there today!! ? God made you. And you just might be the one whom blesses another struggling woman today. 
❤️ Shalom
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I’ve been gone. I could say it’s because I was busy – which is true – but that is not the ultimate reason for my absence. Fear. Gosh, this is difficult to admit. Fear paralyzed me. I conquered the fear of creating the page, of writing the first post. I conquered the sickness I felt when I hit post for the first time. Honestly, I had no idea that I would feel so vulnerable every time I blogged. Every post is a piece of me. It’s something I created and the fear of rejection is real—even if it’s just through the phone or computer. 

This is a new feeling for me. I’m not an artist of any kind. Don’t play an instrument or paint. So I’ve never had to put myself out there. And in the face of it all, I stopped. I allowed my fear to convince me, that my posts were obnoxious. That when you saw my link, you rolled your eyes in disgust. So, I quit. 

This week I saw a dear life-long friend that I don’t see often. She asked me about the blog. It’s funny. A great number of people have asked me about it for the last few months, and I always gave a superficial answer. But for some reason I spilled it. I told her the truth. And her response was exactly what I needed. She told me that I had to shed my vulnerability. She has built a booming direct sales business in which she makes women feel good about themselves. But she had to get out of her own way to do that. What if this isn’t about me??????? What if I am called to reach out???? 

If that’s true, I have been failing. My fear won. Thank you friend. Thank you for giving me perspective and once again courage. If my words frustrate you or you aren’t in the mood, please please please scroll on past. I promise. I genuinely prefer to not be one more “thing” in your already overwhelming day. Cause I know that feeling all to well. If not, I promise to bring it. I pray that if you need a chuckle, I provide. And if you need words of hope, I provide that too.   #letthemseeyou
❤️ Shalom 
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After the flu………the one that hospitalized your middle child with a semi-rare condition where the flu attacks the muscle and he/she is unable to walk. After returning home from the hospital, where you hoped for rest for your flu ridden body but found none, all three children had lost their minds. They hadn’t been out of the house in a week. Their schedule had been completely disrupted. Their response was nothing short of meniacal.  As a coping mechanism—because you still hadn’t recovered from the flu—- was to craft, to give them your full attention in the form of Advent crafts. You see, I love Easter and Advent. It is so full of love and hope, I can hardly contain the joy it brings. So, I loaded my sick self up in search of craft materials. 

Three stores later……I returned home ready to spend quality time with the kids. We were going to paint and make stained glass crosses for the windows. My husband left to go to work because he had things to do since me and #2 had been in the hospital and he was tied to the others. We began to work. It went mildly smooth for the first three or so minutes. As we moved into the stained glass cross, I had to send #2 limping into his room because he was hitting the others. That left me and #1 and the baby. Number one was completely uninterested in my plot. None of the kids were genuinely interested, really. Wasn’t this what they needed?! Mommy time?! 

He got up from the table and went to play with his drone mid-craft. Something happened inside my brain. Something snapped. I like to blame the virus that was running crazy in my body. I walked over, grabbed the drone, opened the front door, and threw it into the front yard. I was obviously trying to make a statement. 

However, I immediately heard a zipping noise outside and the drone took off. It flew far away. When I tossed it into the front yard in a monumental gesture, the remote landed face down and sent the brand new drone sailing. I ran outside (while my son screamed in emotional distress) and grabbed the remote. It was too late. I maneuvered the controls and could hear the drone, but had no way of knowing where it was. All that was left was the faint untraceable buzz and the lonely remote. 

Once I calmed down, and my husband returned home, I searched the neighborhood for the drone. It was never to be found. I eventually finished the stained glass crosses alone. 

I’m certain that when my children remember their childhoods, these moments will be what they remember- the moments when I cracked. Ironically, Easter represents the ultimate hope and faith and love we receive in Christ, which is why I love it so much. But that day, all of my humanness showed. Every ounce of my inability as a mother. I lacked the grace to finish the craft with unwilling kids. I wanted so badly to be that mom who had well-mannered children learning about Christ in a beautiful way. But I wasn’t. I’m just me. And my children……..are my children. And hopefully, our good times will be peppered into their memories of me. 
❤️ Shalom
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It’s here. We have the flu. It’s day 7, and 3 of the 5 of us are down. The delightful, 4 year-old, middle child is the culprit. He brought it here. Although, he still feels bad enough to run my haggard, fever-ridden legs to death he is not as sick as he has been. The 5 year-old is asleep in bed with a temp of 103 that I am battling to get down. The 2 year-old baby and the middle child do not care that I feel as if my skin might fall off at any moment. Actually, the 4 year-old is insisting that he cannot walk—-anywhere.  He needs a snack -no not that snack, another one. And a drink. Wait, the baby needs something, too. All of the amidst the countless trips upstairs to wipe B’s forehead with a cool rag to get his temp down. So, when he fell asleep and I finally got the middle one settled, me and the baby came outside for some air. 

My guilt is incredible on days like these. My guilt for being a working mom. While I am here dragging myself from one room to another, there are people who also depend on me somewhere else. And I can’t meet anyone’s needs. I am trying to coax my sick boy into the car so I can run to work to get some things so I can work from home. He keeps begging me to let him stay in bed. My mind is drowning in guilt for the many things on my to do list at the office. 

This is only one example of how working moms can feel defeated. It’s days like these when our best will never ever be enough. Lord, it’s my prayer today that I never forget. That I never forget the torn feeling in my heart this morning. And that I extend the hand of grace to other moms in need of patience and help. There will come a day when my children will only need me to administer medicine And be present when they are ill. And in that time, Lord please remind my heart how much those mommas of little ones might need a little bit of light. 
Please forgive me if this one doesn’t flow. I was only able to string together two and three words at a time between carrying people to potty, and fixing juices, and taking temperatures. 
❤ Shalom
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Yesterday’s post was a list of silly mishaps I encountered in my day. It was nothing truly out of the ordinary- minus the fire trucks. I insensitively mentioned the neighbor’s house catching ablaze as just one more obstacle in my already crazy day. 

Today I was traveling down the same street listening to my praise and worship music unaware of the great number of things happening around me. I was still completely wrapped up in myself and finding my way from point A to point B. As I passed the neighbor’s house, he was standing out front. The look of heartbreak and defeat sent my heart deep into my stomach. There stood that man: alone, assessing what was left of his only worldly belongings. I am so small. 

You see I have watched this man for months. He is different than me. He is different in a way that made me uncomfortable at times with his strange lifestyle. I knew him. I didn’t know his name. But I knew he had little. I had suspicions that he had battles, and I was certain he had little by way of necessary items. And yesterday, while -what I assume- his only worldly belongings were engulfed in flames, I was worried about how I was going to get home and where I had stuffed the karate coupon. 

As I passed his gaunt body today, it struck me. He is the child of God. The same God that breathes life into him, breathes life into me. And while his world was burning, I didn’t even think to help. To be honest, he didn’t even cross my mind. No matter how questionable his life choices may be, I am called to show him love and grace. And all I could muster was placing him on the list of inconveniences I encountered in my day. 

Today I am thankful for a God that continues to pursue me, even when quite frankly, I don’t deserve it. And I am humbled to know how small I am in the grand scheme, yet motivated by the daily opportunities He gives me to do better, be better, and carry the light. I am also grateful that He loved me enough to smack my big, stupid face today and wake me up, out of my self-absorbed coma. There are many days when it is truly all I can do to get through the day. However, I am called. He has a job for me to do. Some days it is inside of my family. Some days it is not. I have to be able to see the difference. I have to step out of myself. My days are wild and whacky, this is certain. But that is no excuse for complacency in Christianity. We are responsible. Love to you all. 
❤ Shalom

The Monday when you wake up groggy from the weekend of caring for victims of the stomach virus. You stand in front of the closet for way too much time because you can’t focus long enough to put together any resemblance of style. Your husband has to leave early for work. You pin your unruly hair into a mess of an updo. You go downstairs to find your boys. Hubby dressed them, so that’s great. But it’s whacky day at preschool, and your 4year old resists whacky. You fix breakfast and go back upstairs to apply necessary makeup. 

Makeup is finished. Now it is time to wake the baby. She is ill. She prefers another three hours of sleep. You are most certain she has done the dirty, so you wrestle her to the ground in your dress clothes. Nope. No poo. You change her clothes -with a fight- and return to the marathon of getting to the car. Vitamins, coffee, backpacks, shoes, etc. one of the boys comes running to say that the baby stinks. Poop. Metaphorically and literally. Another diaper change you don’t have time for. You comply. Btw- that’s another hand washing session.  You tie shoes and get everyone to the car. 

It’s 7:21 am. You missed the golden minute. Your entire drop-off routine is a wash now. Backing out of the garage into the pouring rain, you announce to the car that you are all late. You attempt to restart the day with some Toby Mac. One drop off: semi smooth. Rush to the sitters and drop off the baby. Third drop off involves a meandering 4 year-old in the rain with no umbrella. Yep, missed the drive up drop off. 

Get to work. Spend a few minutes working and listening to praise and worship music. Then you manage to inadvertantly offend a co-worker about the office letterhead and a 20 year friend, in a matter of minutes. Spend the next few minutes trying to print on letterhead. Why is this so difficult for me? Upside-down, backwards. Geez. It’s like I have a block. You finally get it right and take off to deliver. You take the three page letter of recommendation to a friend to learn that the letter must be less than one page in length. Shew. 

No time for a coke or restroom breaks. You receive a text from a neighbor stating that the neighbor’s house is on fire. You re-route to the sitter’s house for pick-up. You walk into the sitter’s to learn that the baby has a raging nose bleed. And you are of course wearing a white shirt. And she, of course, is wearing a brand new outfit. After getting all three kids into the car, you head home. 

A jolly police man stops you and tells you he isn’t sure when you will be able to get home. As you are standing on the street negotiating with the kind man, your car door opens and the middle child is trying to get out onto a Main Street. Your oldest is having an emotional breakdown inside of the car because you can’t get home. The kind officer consoles your child and tells you to take them shopping. This man has obviously never taken three small children into any store. After shutting down that idea he suggests the park. The baby has on no shoes. 

You beg him to allow you to drive onto the vacant lot behind your house and park. He doesn’t approve but doesn’t stop you. You pull down into the lot. You park. You then traipse through the woods in heels with a chubby two-year old on your hip and two boys running directly toward the fire. You can’t catch them because your heels are sinking in the mud. 

After getting everyone into the house, the oldest reminds you of the free karate class tonight for which you have a voucher. But the voucher is nowhere to be found. You send him anyway. You get a text from a friend that her sewer is backing up into the house, and you desperately want to help her. But you are ankle deep in poo today too!  Fast forward. He returns home. The middle is distraught because he didn’t get a belt at karate. Everyone showers. You wash the blood off of the baby. Then there are jammies and the brushing of teeth. You snuggle the baby up for a moment before placing her in bed, and she is once again covered in blood. You take a deep breath, clean her face with a warm cloth, and take her back to bed. 

You hold her close and sing a very poor version of Lauren Daigle and thank God for the chaos of your day. And then you ask Him to make tomorrow a little less eventful. But if not, you will love it just the same. Happy Monday, Mommas!!
❤ Shalom

My mornings are a hodgepodge of disasters. Some mornings I pull into the drop off line while cups, phones, half-empty (who’s kidding they are empty with a small drink left in the bottom) coffee mugs, balls, and lipsticks slide into my lap/floorboard on the first turn. I reset them only to have them fall in the exact same manner on the second turn. I realize the oldest has forgotten his backpack as he is getting out of the car. Some days, I pull out of the garage to realize that it is thirty degrees, and my children are severely inappropriately dressed for the weather. At times, I miss  the drop off line for the second child by 45 seconds because the police officer at the first school drop off decided he would rather watch the traffic than direct it in the rain. Can’t say that I blame him. And because I missed the drop off I have to drag the baby out in the rain to walk the middle inside. But wait, I don’t have an umbrella, so we all get drenched in the process. 

There have been mornings where I was putting the baby in her car seat, fully dressed for work,  heard screaming, looked up just in time to see the water spray coming down toward me from over the car (inside of the garage) because that precious middle child was shooting the water hose. Awesome. There are of course the days when we can’t find shoes, have potty accidents, and the everyday troubles of getting out the door. There have even been days when we had to change clothes because the boys escaped and made snow angels before I could stop them. 

Not today. Nope. I was on time. We had backpacks, coats, the oldest even had on his 100th day of school t-shirt! And wait for it…….everyone’s hair was brushed. I was on my way today. We were winning. I felt like I had the day whipped before 7:25. Number one got out of the car bouncing with pride in his new shirt. I pulled away in all of my glory. The second drop off was sure to be on time. I pulled up to the stop sign where the kind, young, brand spanking new policeman stood directing traffic. He flashed me a stop hand, and I smiled and complied. He directed the outside lines; I waited. He gave me a glance. I inched forward thinking his frustration was that I wasn’t moving. He flashed me another stop hand. I haulted. He continued to give me a frustrated glare. I finally threw up my hands in confusion. He gestured in both directions. Oooh. I didn’t have on my turning signal. 

I briefly felt embarrassed. He was visibly frustrated with my incompetence. Then I realized that today he was not going to steal my thunder. Nope. No dulling my sparkle. My standards cannot be perfection. Let’s be really honest. They can’t even be close to that. Even though I managed to royally anger the new police officer, I was on fire this morning! I accepted that my version of success looks different than most. And I am ok with that. 

My apologies to the young officer for my inability to effectively use my turning signals. I will try to do better tomorrow. 
❤ Shalom

Being a girlfriend in my younger years, it was about remembering one another’s birthdays, making my friends feel special, being there after a break-up to listen to the tearful woes of a love gone bad. But being a friend changes. I don’t know what I did right, but God has armored me with the best friends I am certain I do not deserve. I am surrounded by women who love Him and me fiercely. These women are incredible and beautiful. And I cannot imagine my path without any of them. They are each special, each bringing something unique to my life. 

I wasn’t prepared for the change though. In younger years we become protectors of their hearts. In our 20s, if you hurt our friends we will fight. We will stand up for them. We will protect them. We will tell them what they need to hear to feel better. That’s what we are supposed to do. 

But the variables change. In adulthood, the stakes are different. Our needs are different. This list isn’t compiled of the things I necessarily eloquently do. But they are the things that I and the irreplaceable women in my life have done that have proved to allow our friendships and other relationships to flourish. 

• Listen. This is different than before. Sometimes she needs you to listen without judgement. She needs you to be mad when she is mad and be over it when she is. She doesn’t need you to form opinions about her husband or companion. She just needs a safe place to lay her frustrations down. 
• Be honest. This one is tricky. She doesn’t always need your opinion. Often, she doesn’t. But I have some wonderful ladies that taught me that honesty was from love. And if your intentions are pure, be honest. 
• Understand the big picture. So he’s lame. Yep. Really lame. Ok. But the stakes are high when we have homes, husbands, and children. The big picture isn’t always simple. It’s not even always pretty. But our job as friends is to help her remember what is important. And help her remember the big picture when she is overwhelmed with her own feelings.  And to help her figure out a way to get there. 
• Pray. If you love them, pray for them. 
• Give them time. I struggled with post-partum depression. I wasn’t myself. My girlfriends were always there to give me time. Time to remember me. I’m certain it wasn’t ever convenient, but when I decided I was in the mood for girl-time, they made it happen. And it made All the difference to me. 
• Let them guide their ship. Shew. This one was the hardest for me to learn. God gave them their families. And now am I certain He will tell them how to take care of them. When they ask questions about leaving or divorce, direct them to God. Those decisions can only be made through prayer and meditation. 
• Show grace. If she loves him/her, show them grace. She doesn’t need you to make her feel guilty for trying to save her family. And she doesn’t need the added stress of having to fear interactions between her family and best friends. She needs you to love her enough to show grace, even if you think he stinks. 
• Accept honesty. Hear your friends. Respect them. Respect their honesty. If you love them enough to hold them dear, let them tell you the truth. We are all assholes sometimes. And sometimes, we need someone to tell us. 

Being an adult friend is tricky. It’s difficult to navigate. It’s unnatural in a lot of ways. It is love that calls us to jump to defend one another. But we have to love one another enough to be the person she needs us to be. And sometimes, that is silent. And sometimes, that is to tell her that her outfit is unbecoming. Or maybe even, that her husband is right, and she is being unreasonable. Thank you to my women, my sisters. I love you each deeply. 
❤ Shalom 

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Life is hard. Parenting is hard. Keeping up with bills, work, and ball games -all very hard. We live in a demanding world. And almost always there just isn’t enough. I feel daily like there isn’t enough time. I’m not patient enough. The house isn’t clean enough. We didn’t read enough. My children don’t eat healthy enough. The list goes on and on and starts over again every morning when my eyes open. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. Because my guess is that no matter your current situation, you can identify with me. 

I have my ace card though. I am one of those people. I am one of those people who rock out to praise and worship music. Yep. It’s out there. I said it. In my car, in my house, at my desk, wherever and whenever I can get it, I listen to it – loudly. A dear friend introduced my husband to Toby Mac at one of the harder times in his life. He embraced it and came to love it. I was a skeptic and kept my distance. 

As I entered to this stage in life (adulthood) where I felt as if I lived in defeat, this was His answer. You see, as a working mom time is sparse. I must be very deliberate with every hour. As much as I adore church, it’s hard right now. With infants, it’s impossible with nap time. With children, after spending all week away from my babies, it’s so hard to hand them off for three precious hours to a nursery attendant. Then there is cleaning my house and the grocery. What about a few precious hours with my grandmother before my children turn into trolls because it is nap time? Again, I love my church and especially my church family. But time for formal worship is let’s face it- hard. 

Praise and worship music feeds my soul. I need you to know that I listen to this not because I am perfect and well or even a remotely “good” Christian, but because I am struggling, and I need to feel His presence and to be reminded of His grace. Is it lame and unpopular? Yep. Would I have giggled at this 10 years ago? You bet ya. But I need it like air these days, people. 

When I don’t get the worship time I need, or time studying scripture because I fall fast asleep the moment my head hits the pillow, I need to feed my spirit. Day after day I am faced with challenges. These are the challenges and blessings that He has placed before me. It’s easy to get overwhelmed with the STUFF. Someone is sick, someone forgot his/her backpack, someone was abused, someone is hungry, someone has no heat, someone is being neglected. The list of things I face continues to build, and I have to be able to show up and deliver. And I can’t do that if I am depleted. I am needed. And we are not meant to walk in defeat. 

I never needed it until this season of my life. But I do now. I am proud to say that not all days, but some days my husband walks in to see me and the kids breaking it down in the kitchen to Toby Mac while I cook supper. Go ahead and giggle. It is a funny sight. You might see me rocking out at a stop light. And there is a slight chance I will be throwing down some Snoop, because I really do love Snoop. But odds are it will be the Message, or Theway FM, or Christian Family Radio. And I will be loving every second. 

I am getting my head on straight for my family, for my students, and for my Redeemer. I need Him. I need to know that I’m not alone, that I am not walking in defeat. It’s easy to get distracted by the ugly and the demands of the day. And I’m just a human. I do it every day. Praise and worship music is my armor. And for the time being, it’s my lifeline. 

❤ Shalom