I miss the bad kids.

Remember last year?

The horrible, terrible year?

The year of tearful Fridays and 60-hour weeks and anxiety so bad that my legs often locked up, making me look like a peg-legged sailor?

It was a rough year.

But over the past two weeks I've felt sharp pangs of loss because, gosh darnit, I miss the kids.

I don't know why it's hitting hard now; maybe because this time last year was filled with a lot of sentiment.

No, I DO NOT miss referrals, bullying reports, parent emails, and constant emotional triage...but if you offered to let me take each of those kids out for ice cream, I wouldn't hesitate to say yes. 

Why? Because with all of the crazy came a love and loyalty that you don't find in every class.

So I miss them.

I miss the kid who made me fresh-squeezed orange juice from his breakfast fruit cup and brought me chocolate milk from the cafeteria every day.

I miss the kid who really wanted to get me a mug for Christmas.

I miss the kid who hated teachers, but wanted to tell me mundane things about his life because he knew that I cared.

I miss the kid who danced with me and sang "Keep Holding On" after a horrid day.

I miss the kid who said he'd punch the principal if I ever got fired.

I miss the kid who threw down all of his football gear and leapt up the bleachers when he saw that I'd come to his game.

I miss the kid who wrote to me about her life in her weekly journal assignment, even though she wouldn't talk much in class.

I miss the kid who gave a very convincing argument in Social Studies that made half the class think that Hitler wasn't so bad.

I miss the kid who always fessed up about saying bad words.

I miss the kid who pretended to be a t-rex with me.

I miss the kids who stayed after school to help me cover the walls before T-CAP, and then uncovered the poster of Abraham Lincoln's face so that he could stare at everyone while they were testing (though, YES, I covered him back up before the test).
I miss the kid who wrote a story about Josh and me getting married during the time of the dinosaurs.

I miss the camaraderie that came with that bad class.

I miss the day we decided that our class name would be "Love's Lil' Gremlins".

I miss the behavior talks--particularly after a sub day ("We were terrible! We all deserve demerits!").

I miss telling the kids to have compassion and empathy, and then watching them have it (if only for a little while).

I miss the great discussions about how history wasn't fair.

I miss group hugs.

I miss their demented, Hot-Topic sort of humor and obsession with angsty teen bands.

I couldn't do that year again, but I am so very glad it happened, and that it was filled with enough love to miss.

Engagement is weird.

Scratch that.
The beginning isn't all that weird. It's exactly what you'd expect--a couple days of glitter, butterflies, and warm fuzzies. A thousand congratulations. More facebook notifications than you know what to do with. It's like your birthday and Christmas came at once and tiny fluffy puppies miraculously rained down out of the sky.

After that comes some wedding panic, which is also an expected feeling.
VENUE
DRESS
COLORS
FLOWERS
FOOD
MUSIC
FREAKING GUEST LIST

But once the big things get checked off the wedding list--that's when things get weird. Because then it settles in that holy crap I'm actually going to live with this person as long as we're both alive, and we're going to have houses and babies and teenagers and disagreements and vacations together. 

And at this point of the game, the two of you actually have to start making big decisions together. 
As a single unit.
Where you once simply had to decide on what to do and where to eat dinner, you must now decide on things like
a phone plan,
a car insurance plan,
where you're going to live,
where you'll go to church,
how your money will be spent,
when and how many kids you'll have,
how you'll keep from having those children until it's time,
what you'll do about the holidays,
what your future goals are,
and
so on,
and
so forth.

Like me, you may know (or have known) that these were all things that would come up before marriage. But it's one thing to KNOW that you'll have to make these decisions, and another to go through the process of making them.

You really get to know yourself AND your significant other in these decisions, in a way that you'll never know anybody else. It's like digging into each other's souls with sharp little shovels.
I've never done that before.
It's a weird thing.

Josh and I are more solid than a lot of engaged couples, and even we still have cold feet moments.
Why?
Because we know this is a big deal, and it's scary.

Every day, we will have to sacrifice our desires for the good of our sacred union.
We will come face-to-face with our selfishness.
We will have to swallow I-told-you-sos and Why-can't-you-justs and I-deserves.
That's all noble and whatnot, but isn't it easy to pick at and criticize people you know really well?
I don't know about you, but I'm super good at finding the flaws of others, and I'm also good at correcting them because I'm a teacher and that's what I do.

Josh and I have always had pretty healthy, open communication, but in the last two months of making these kinds of decisions I feel that we've really gotten to know each other.
And guess what.
Our brains work differently.
Our baggage is gross.
And even clear communication isn't always crystal.

It's hard to describe the shift that's taking place in our relationship, other than to say that it's deep, it's good (though it doesn't always feel that way), and it's weird.
We are both, however, becoming more excited about the marriage than we are about the wedding.

Pretty sure that's the way it's supposed to be.

Now, here are some examples of our great communication:

Why weirdos with snuggies shouldn't have blogs.

It's time for a really great story about when I was a college sophomore and was foolish enough to think that nobody read my blog.

Yes, I was a nineteen-year-old with a blog, and it was a crazy-random collection of all the spastic things that I was doing with my friends. It was also a free-for-all on my thoughts and opinions because I was certain that no more than five people were interested in what it said.

The beginning of sophomore year (and that blog) overlapped with an epic breakup, after which I was determined to prove my independence in a way that would prevent anyone sane from dating me. So I asked for a snuggie for Christmas, and I named it Jacob Snuggie because I was really into Twilight at the time. I even went as far as making a facebook page for it and putting us in a relationship, because, you know, that's HILARIOUS.

WHY DID I DO THAT. WHY DID ANYBODY LET ME DO THAT.

Anyway.

Imagine my surprise when I returned to college after Christmas to find out that the boy sitting next to me in Doctrine class was named Jacob Snuggs.

I am not kidding.

And he had shaggy blonde hair which was ENTIRELY my jam at the time.

Thinking myself safe, I blogged about the irony of this for all five of my readers.

Mentioned how much I'd like to, you know, snuggle with him.

A few weeks later, he cut his hair and I found out that he was engaged. Of course, I had to blog about the tragedy of that, too.

I even used the words "long, majestic, honey-gold locks" because I don't blog halfway.

The following paragraph in that same entry included some whining about my weight.

Not long after, he moved to a seat at the back of class. I couldn't figure out why.

I spent that summer interning in Uganda. Towards the end of the internship, my teammate--who I had not been friends with before this trip--and I had the "first impressions" conversation that all girls like to have after they've gotten to know each other really well.

Her: "Yeah, I thought you'd be a total weirdo because of that blog you wrote."

Me: "What."

She went on to tell me how she'd heard about those specific blog entries through the grapevine, and about how he had read the blog--at which point I was fairly certain that all the popular people at Covenant knew about it, because he was in that circle and my college was tiny.

Later, I went back to my blog to check the phrases that people had entered to search for my blog, and there were things like "laura love jacob snuggs blog" and "laura love snuggs" and "all your dignity is gone you sad and shameful weirdo you". 

Then I found out how to block people from finding it, and I stayed single for the rest of college.

Moral of the story: 

Don't do that. Don't ever do that.

(Though I'm fairly certain one of those popular people will magically find this blog post, too. Then again, I've not got much pride left to lose.)

The end.

Another Wedding Post: Crazy Dreams and Identity Crisis

The crazy wedding dreams are officially in full swing.

My last few sleeps have been riddled with veils, bouquets, and things I have forgotten.

Example:

Some texts Josh got first thing yesterday morning.

I'd also watched the horrific bloody episode of Downton Abbey just before bed, which didn't help.

Everyone told me I would have these dreams. It's perfectly normal that my brain would take my subconscious wedding anxiety and run with it.

To the African Savannah.

Of course, who wouldn't have anxiety leading up to their wedding? Marriage is the biggest decision you will (probably) ever make. You (usually) only get one wedding day.  Only a fraction of people getting married are actually good at event planning. 

And Wedding Land is a giant, confusing maze.

Example:

I went bridesmaid dress shopping last Friday with a couple of my ladies. When we got up to the counter after choosing dresses, we were told that it would take SEVENTEEN WEEKS for their dresses to come in. That's mid-May. February just started yesterday.

Why do things in Wedding Land work differently than things in Real Life?

Why does my brain feel like it's full of feathers?

Why do I see flowers and skirts when I close my eyes before bed?

Right now it's easy to choose to think about the wedding rather than the marriage. I've heard this before and thought DUH, but the struggle is real, y'all. Not that I don't think about how I'll be married forever afterwards, but a wedding seems more tangible and immediately concerning. 

(And fun. I mean, PARTY, DRESSES, DANCING, CAKE. Wedding =  cake. Marriage = crockpot meals. What would you daydream about?)

Then things happen to remind me that I'm in the process of becoming united with another person.

Like, a full-grown human being.

Not a pet or even a baby, but a man who will call the final shots for him, me, and however many little humans we have.

Example:

Last week, my phone began giving signs of imminent death. It was old and I'd known its end was coming, but I'd been hoping it would wait until July.

Oh well.

It was literally swelling up, which is never good.

Josh and I thought that we might as well start talking phone plans and budget, because now would be a good time to consolidate our plans.

I thought this would be somewhat simple, and it was...not.

There wasn't so much conflict as there was the realization that both of us had different ideas about how this would work (Finally, a money disagreement! WOOHOO!!!).

What we would've done as individuals wasn't what was best for us together, and we had normal miscommunication and minor hurt feelings.

It was eventually resolved via a cheap replacement from the Apple store and Josh deciding to hop onto my plan (we think, at least), but it gave me a moment of pause.

A moment to ruminate on the enormity of the step I'm about to take.

I'm not just changing my last name.

I'm turning in the independent-lady identity that I've been working so hard on the last six years. 

Josh and I will make decisions together, yes, but in the end, he will follow the Lord and be the head of our house--or apartment--or whatever. As dad put it, "Two people on one horse--somebody has to be the leader."

I didn't realize how much I like to be the leader until the dumb issue with the cell phone. 

And--GEEZ--I'll have to start sharing.

Guys, I love my big bed. I love stretching out ALL OVER IT. I love solitude in the morning. I love occasionally buying my own healthy cereal and fancy chocolate and being the only person eating it. I love the ability to go where I want when I want to.

When I get married, I'll have to share my sheets, my mornings, and maybe even my chocolate.

And Josh is a sheet thief.*

There's a difference between knowing this and really feeling it. I'm grieving over the fact that, after saying the words, "I, Laura Love, take thee, Joshua Davis, to be my lawfully wedded husband," I will be giving up a significant part of who I am. 

I won't even be Miss Love anymore.

Laura Davis will be a great name (albeit a common one) and the change is entirely worth it (nobody will be able to find me online!).

Marriage will be sanctifying.

I obviously need that.

Josh, too, will be giving up a lot to be my husband. His independent identity. His ability to go where he wants, when he wants to. His ramen noodle dinners and closet space. 

(I was going to add "his sheets", but he still won't be sharing those.)

Marriage will have so. many. great. times.

But I think it's ok to savor my final days as Laura Love.

*note: I don't know this from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE--just Josh making it abundantly clear.

Just Call Me Laura Sparks

Exciting news on the wedding front: I have found my dress!

After seven shopping excursions and over thirty dresses, my third trip to David's Bridal proved to be a success. 

It was a strange experience to step in front of the mirror and KNOW that was the dress. 

I felt like the prettiest princess to ever look like a cloud.

...I don't even know what that last sentence means.

Anyway, mom and I were both very direct about it when we knew, and to avoid stares from the hordes of people in the store with us (including the lady in the next dressing room who had ELEVEN people with her) I didn't ring the bell. Sorry, sales associate who was with us.

I was hungry and ready to be done.

Now it's time to set my sights and stress further down the wedding list!

However, instead of writing another post about wedding stuff (don't worry--there will be more) (BTW HOW ARE FLOWERS SO EXPENSIVE)(THEY DIE AFTER A WEEK)(THEY ARE PRICEY DYING PLANTS), I thought it would be fun to reminisce and write a post about the beginning of my relationship with Joshua Cameron Davis.

Everyone knows that Audrey started it with an embarrassing facebook message showcasing me in Russian fortuneteller garb. Josh told her he wasn't interested, but then he stalked me and decided that he actually was, which led to two weeks of messaging and texting.

Now, if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a dude playing around. It was obvious to me that there was a spark and I was impatient as heck for him to do something about it.

I mean, if you're going to take so much of my time and energy, at least compensate me with food.

I finally sent him this:

(Back then, Josh used a lot of smiley faces because he was so daggum excited to be texting me.)

 I got the message and threw my fists in the air in victory.

A REAL, LIVE DATE.

I HAD MADE SOMEONE ASK ME ON A REAL, LIVE DATE.

Saturday rolled around and I went through the classic problem of what to wear.

I was meeting him at Cheddar's.

Casual?

Nice?

Casual?

Nice?

Screw it, I'm going casual with Audrey's nice sandals.

What I didn't count on was rod run traffic, which made me an hour and a half late. I tried to encourage Josh by texting him whenever my car was at a standstill, but he was half convinced he was being stood up. By the time I arrived, he'd been through two glasses of water.

I sidled up to the booth nervously and waved hello.

He jumped out of his seat, hugged me, and giggled.

Then we took turns going to the bathroom, which was when I texted Emma to tell her that OMG HE'S SO CUTE.

While we ate, we talked about travel, theology, and our jobs. Josh twisted his straw wrapper into nervous oblivion and I couldn't figure out what to do with my forearms. By the time we finished, it was too late to go bowling as he had planned, so we decided to go walking through the rod-runners because that's romantic.

However, when we got outside, it was raining.

Josh got nervous because he thought maybe I didn't like rain, but I told him, "I don't really care about my hair," (which was 75% a lie), and his eyes lit up. Off we went, sidestepping puddles and laughing at rod runners. We talked about family, dogs, and homeschooling, and we kept our hands in our pockets.

At the end of the night, he walked me to my car, gave me TWO hugs, and the world's most awkward back-of-the-head kiss. Then he was escaping across the parking lot to his car, and I was left trying to decide how I felt about it all.

DID I LIKE HIM?

WAS HE CREEPY?

WOULD WE GET MARRIED?

I stayed up til 2:00 texting Emma and Morgan about this.

I decided we needed another shot.

A few days later, we walked around the Patriot Park and had dinner at Chik-fil-a.

That's when I really started to fall for Josh.

He was nervous and dorky and told great stories about his childhood. We used accents and he talked to the ducks. 

He basically spoke my love language.

After the third date, which was that weekend, he met my parents.

Dad's first question was about what Josh planned to do with his life. The second was about gun control. I noticed that Josh was laughing more nervously than usual and he couldn't figure out what to do with his hands. 

He finally made it through and even stayed late that night to play board games with Audrey and me.

I was truly enamored.

The next Monday, he came back over and we took an evening walk around the neighborhood. He told me about the time he hacked a Plank out of a block of wood, and I laughed so hard I could barely breathe. We stopped for a while to look at the stars. He kissed my cheek. I held his hand. It was all Nicholas Sparks-y, except that nobody was dying.

That week, I prayed for a relationship with Josh Davis. God was giving me a peace about dating him, which nearly freaked me out because generally my prayers about boys are like this:

"Dear God,

I really like _____.

Can I date _____?

No?

Why not?

This has to be a mind trick.

I must not be hearing you correctly.

_____ is great!

Why doesn't _____ like me?

I WILL NEVER FIND SOMEONE AS GREAT AS ____.

Are you sure?

Let me recite this list of great qualities about ____.

.......

This is upsetting.

Fine.

I don't get to date ____.

Thank you for my singlehood.

You know what's best.

Good luck to ____.

Amen.

...but are you sure?"

This time, there was hardly a struggle. It was ok to date Josh.

YES.

When he picked me up that Saturday (with roses) (while my aunt, uncle, and cousins were all in the front yard), I was wearing this cute teacher-y getup.

He took me to The Island, where we ate, ran through the mirror maze, and rode the ferris wheel. When he finally asked me to be his girlfriend, I glanced at our clasped hands and said, "We're kind of already there, aren't we?"

He said that he wanted a Christ-centered relationship, which was almost as romantic to me as Mr. Darcy walking through the fog to tell Elizabeth how ardently he loved her.

Of course, it wasn't all stars and fairy dust. The ferris wheel was making dying whale noises and Josh smelled like the onions that had come on his burger at dinner. But it was wonderful enough for me.

Bla, bla, bla, the rest is history, we're getting married, and so on and so forth. 

The Holidays and the Amygdala

December and the first half of January kicked my butt.

It started when Christmas break did, with a bunch of shopping, baking, and friendly gatherings.
The whirlwind that was Christmas Eve--with church service, the Hutchinson Christmas party, Franklin Christmas, and the annual Love sisters reading-of-Christmas-stories-with-accents.
Then Christmas came, with days of subsequent events.
Visiting with my grandmother a couple of times.
The Davis family gathering.
The Love family gathering.
The Hammer family gathering.
Two more rounds of wedding dress shopping.
What.

By the time it was over, Josh had left for trip to Thailand, and I wasn't going to see him again until the middle of January.
I hardly had any time to be sad about that before it was time to go to Lisa's house for New Year's.
Mary Claire and I rode together, which was great because I hadn't seen her in at least two years. For for days, we ate a bunch of food, blew party horns, went roller skating, checked out a new mall, watched a movies, and finally beat Pandemic.

The day after getting back from Lisa's, I hit the ground running back at school.
For two days.
Then it was time for a family vacation to Disney World because Daniel lives there and he didn't get to come home for Christmas.
The following photos are all the behind the scenes non-fancy pictures that dad wasn't taking.

(Seriously, though. Can we talk about Repunzel's bathroom and how I used it twice even though I didn't have to pee?)

We went to Animal Kingdom, Epcot, and Magic Kingdom, as well as Animal Kingdom Lodge, the Polynesian, Disney Springs, and Disney Quest. Daniel beat Audrey and me at Settlers of Catan three times. I finally bought the poptarts I'd been craving for months. We spent a day visiting with my grandfather. I listened to Northanger Abbey and Pride and Prejudice on audiobook. A lot of knitting was accomplished.

We did (and ate) a LOT.

I still have panic disorder, right?
Right.
I had been dreading this season since, I don't know, October, because it sounded about as hectic as another month in Europe. My counselor and I spent an entire session planning out how to deal with the stress and not freak out.
Back in August and September I was still afraid of restaurants and Walmart, but now I was going to Disney World.
Ugh.
Who am I.
Anyway.

I obviously made it, and here were my coping strategies:

1. Positive visualization and self-talk. Because what's the point of mulling over the possibility of having a terrible time and then definitely having a terrible time?
2. Deep breathing. Like, fake-pregnant-lady belly breathing.
3. Finding a mental happy place. I used to think that was a joke, but now I'm all about it. My happy place can be anywhere I want it to be, gosh darn it, and if I want to go to my happy mental princess castle, and I can do just that.
4. Smothering myself in essential oils.
5. Leaning into my feelings. If my body is telling me to cry, then CRY, DANGIT.
6. Prayer, because the rest is pointless without it.

Zoloft is helpful, too.
There were only two panic incidences during that trip. The first was when the Haunted Mansion ride got stuck next to a creepy dead bride, which almost triggered an attack ("Til DEATH do us paaaart....for better or for WORSSSE..."). But the worst semi-attack was on our way back, as we went through St. Augustine. It was lunchtime and being in the car sucks, so as soon as we got to the visitor center I let myself have the cry I wanted and things went uphill from there. We ate lunch and I was good.

I've learned that it's alright to embrace my scared feelings. If I validate them and take care of them, they leave a lot more quickly.
As my counselor taught me, "Hug your amygdala."

These three weeks showed me that I don't have to be in paralyzing fear of my anxiety.
I'm ok.
God provided me with coping skills.

However, routine is nice and I have gladly taken it back.
Amygdala and Josh are happy to have it back, too.

Engaged.

Let's talk about being engaged.

Starting with the proposal, which is a complete blur until after it's over.
I spent, like, eighteen years of my life imagining that special moment with a slew of different proposers--from the red power ranger, to Ash Ketchum, to Legolas, to the cute boy at school, to my high school boyfriend, to every good looking person on the college campus. I went through scenarios with cookie cakes, dance routines, pavilions with twinkle lights, surprises on stage...

And none of those things happened.

It was over in approximately two minutes, in a place I hadn't expected to a man who hadn't existed in the hours I invested in my romantic daydreams.

I didn't even have process-able feelings about it until a few hours later.

Not that Josh did anything wrong. When I look back on the way everything happened, I am so grateful that there were no dance routines or pretty, romantic speeches. I am thankful for the shake in his voice, how awkward it was for him to kneel, and the way my giant purple hands splayed out in surprise.

But I guess it's similar to how we take a whole month to get ready for Christmas and then spend the day eating and piddling around. Christmas Day was awesome, but it wasn't the fantasy that the movies made us dream about.

(Unless, of course, YOU happen to spend Christmas sledding in the countryside ((in snow that isn't cold)) with a cheerful, non-dramatic, sweater-wearing family, before snuggling and playing board games and eating cookies together in front of the fire in your cozy log cabin while everyone talks about how wonderful life is. That might be you. I don't know.)

The proposal fantasies didn't include the week afterwards, which was a slippery slope of panic.

It felt like the whole world was calling, texting, and asking when the wedding was.
Uh.
I dunno.
Summer?
Wedding.
Marriage.
Haha.
Engaged.
Haha.
What?

I suddenly wished that I was one of those girls who'd been working on a wedding pinterest board for five years.

Finding the place to get married was easy: we wanted to do it in Josh's church. However, they don't allow dancing, so we needed a place for the reception.

I naively thought my friend Google would have all the answers.
Haha.

I quickly discovered that everything wedding-related is so expensive that most venues, dress shops, caterers, etc. don't actually post prices on their website.

Why, oh why, oh why, oh why.

I just wanted this to be like shopping for something on amazon.

I wanted numbers.

How many people?

What price?

Must I choose a package?
And all the websites were like:

NO, WE CAN'T TELL YOU THAT BECAUSE PLANNING YOUR WEDDING SHOULD BE LIKE THE MOST COMPLICATED AND EXPENSIVE PUZZLE YOU NEVER WANTED TO HAVE TO PUT TOGETHER.

In the meantime, I thought I'd go out for my first round of dress shopping. 

On a Saturday. At David's Bridal.

I wanted it to be low-key, so I only asked Morgan to come (with her mom and the boys).

I knew I was in trouble when I pulled into the last spot in the parking lot. When I walked inside, I was told to fill out a card with my information. It asked for a wedding date, which made me sweaty because it reminded me that I didn't have one, I didn't even have a venue yet, and HOLY COW eight or nine months couldn't possibly be enough time. Then I was whisked to an empty dressing room and stuffed into a corset and fluffy underskirt as I awaited the dresses that would be brought to me.

Did you know that wedding dress shopping is nothing like prom dress shopping?

I did not.

(And I'm not wearing a corset or fluffy underskirt on my wedding day.)

(NO.)
And I kept walking out onto the stage (yes, stage, in front of the dressing rooms) thinking, "I look like a cupcake...I look like a flowery potato sack...I look like an old lady..."

My friend Mary Claire heard my pleas for sanity, and sent me Barnes and Noble gift cards to buy a wedding planning book.

Bless her.

The book I chose is the most comprehensive wedding manual available to mankind (it was also one that I mocked every time I passed the wedding section in the bookstore--before I understood). It has a FOUR-PAGE CHECKLIST of all the things to do during your year-long engagement.

Fortunately, it also has a two-page "express" checklist for shorter engagements.

Pardon my hysteria-filled laughter.

Thankfully, we have nailed some of the details down, and my stress has gone down with it...you know, so long as I don't think about my entire life changing next year.

You know what's awesome, though?

I am going to be married to a GREAT MAN.

Someone who fits better than I ever thought possible.

He doesn't dance, play guitar, or have honey-gold hair like the boys of my dreams, but he's kind, humble, genuine, and understanding, and he makes the most ridiculous jokes.
I could not have possibly found a person more suited to the task of being around me all the time, and I love him so much.

But don't be fooled, single ladies. The smiling engaged lady in the facebook photos is a lot more confused than you are right now.