To say I have been emotional the last 2 weeks is like saying Joey enjoys sandwiches. And if you read me regularly, you are not surprised.

Part of the issue, if emotions must be referred to as such, is the navigation not just of a new locale, a new career, the start-up mode, the now two kids who reside in different states from us, but the acceptance of all these things, that this is real life, not an adventure or an experiment, but our new reality.

And for me, perhaps even bigger than all those other transitions, is the going ‘back to work’ AND putting my two littles in school. This wasn’t something I had planned, but more, something I fell into, be it out of necessity, destiny, throwing spaghetti against the wall and finding that it stuck… When the theater came together, there was never a formal question posed to me. It was…’Hey babe, we’re going to run this theater in Myrtle Beach.” And since the last time my darling husband made a statement like this (“Hey babe, we’re throwing a gospel convention. In Branson”), it all eventually worked out, how could I say no?

That was the adventure part. And that was the divine appointment part. I have told our story in bits and pieces around these parts, and one day soon I will finally get it all written, but the state of it is…we feel our being here is no accident or even solution, but a divine appointment. And so, here we are.

Meanwhile, this new reality requires a great deal of transformation. It means our laissez faire “rock star” lifestyle (or as my FB profile says, late nights and lazy mornings on the road) has come to an end for now. Little kids whose classes start at 8:30 am have to be up around 7 (especially because we live out in the boonies and it takes a bit to get to the school). The mornings are, as previously mentioned, a whirlwind of tiny, strategic explosions that get us from bed to civilization. It’s way different from the Chuck E. Cheese on Monday afternoon family we used to be.

If I measured the success of our acceptance and adjustment by my own emotions, I would be in serious trouble. I still shed a tear or two most mornings after the drop-off. I still navigate the guilt of waking them up too early in the morning vs. having time to talk/cuddle and not bark at them like a drill sergeant to brush their teeth and bring me the hair pretties. And I am tangibly resentful of the fact that 5 of our 7 days are dictated by a pre-school schedule. Rod laughed when I said this earlier today.

“Like normal people?” he said.

Who said this had to be normal? I responded. For more than a handful of people we know, it isn’t. For the last four and a half years, and especially the last two, it wasn’t for us.

What we have going on here is a lifestyle I have lived in awe of since Miranda was born the same time as a Miss Ella near Kansas City, whose mommy is a rocking lawyer, who went back to work after a normal maternity leave and still managed to breastfeed longer than I did. It’s one my friend Amy, a school administrator and constant continuer of her own education, rocks with 4 kids and for a long time, an internationally-traveling husband. It’s one a lot of amazingly strong and imperfect women manage in their own unique ways.

It is not an organic experience like my friend Martha, who homeschools as a career and still mothers with a heart that is incomprehensibly patient. It’s not roadschooling like my friend Julie, whose adventures through the USA are bringing education to her boys that could never be duplicated, even in the best school. It is not what it used to be for us…a combination of mommy working at home, daddy working at home, Papa and Paige helping out, a carefully-planned homeschool co-op among friends, trips to the library and park and Target and pumpkin farm (a day that will live in infamy) and the zoo scheduled in between concerts and conferences

It’s sharing salt and vinegar chips around the kitchen table before dinner as we ooh-and-ah over the puzzle KK won from the treasure box (her 3rd trip in 12 school days!)

It’s putting aside exhaustion and chores to go to the pool after school because no one else is there…and because we have access to one and we can.

It’s sacrificing my only true solitude, shower time, because it’s 10 or 15 more minutes I can share with them, talking, laughing, singing.

It’s not feeling bad that dinner is scrambled eggs and leftover pasta, because they like those things, and they don’t know the decision to have that instead of roast and potatoes and baked apples and green beans and bread is made out of ease and convenience.

It’s letting go of my own incessant desire to clean up, because there is time for one show before bed, and I want to sing the Imagination Movers theme song with them. (truth be told, I sing it all the time, with or without them…)

It is accepting that at the end of each day, there is no authority that is going to come check off a list of Things You Should Do With and For Your Children In Order To Be Considered a Good Mommy, or Jesus Help Us, A Proverbs 31 Mommy. And just like I used to worry about how to get them in and out of the car, or whether Randa would ever eat fruit, and whether KK would ever sleep all night, the things I worry about: them learning their letters, discovering their passions and talents, believing in Jesus, and knowing they are protected and adored…

Well, those things seem to be coming along just fine, too. I might even say they are progressing, um, normally.