Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Jayne Jennings and I am 35. I am a Christian, and belong to our town's 1st Baptist church. I am married to my sweet, smart, funny and patient husband Bret. We have been married for 16 happy years. We have two perfect children - Bret's son (my stepson) Tommy who is 17, and our daughter Tatum who is 13.
When I had Tatum, I had such a hard time leaving her to go to work, that I eventually decided to just start my own daycare out of our house so I could stay with her while still bringing in a paycheck. That was in 2004 - a lifetime ago. In the last 10 years, we have had dozens of babies/toddlers/big kids in our home. I have cleaned up so many body fluids, spent 10 minutes at a time cooking breakfast and lunch every day, then spending 30 minutes at a time cleaning up after breakfast and lunch every day. I have had my hair pulled, glasses broken, muscles pulled, toes stubbed, foot bottoms bruised by *%$# legos and Barbie shoes left on the floor. When I sit down for story time, I usually have one attentive toddler on my lap, two crawling all over me, and one baby trying to rip the book out of my hands. My reflexes are spot on - I can be talking on the phone, catch a toddler who has climbed up on the barstool and decided to randomly jump off (this happened Friday) on my way to catch the baby that has just learned a new fun trick - climbing on the kitchen table, but not knowing how to climb down safely.
And then when my 11 hour work day ends, I get to be a mom to two teenagers. And if anybody knows anything about teenagers, you know that raising two is another full time job in itself. And we always have extra teenagers here to hang out with ours. Our daughter is active in school/church and Bret and I usually sign up to chaperone parties/trips. Last year we got to go with her school choir to see President Obama's 2nd inauguration. And last month I went along with our church youth group for my very 1st sleep away camp up in the Tennessee mountains.
As if our life wasn't full enough, about 5 years ago a very small, sick, undernourished black kitten decided to move into our garage. She was wild and it took me about 3 months to get her healthy and semi tame. We named her Lucy, and if she was a person, she would be Joan Collins - complete with the British accent. She is every bit the diva - very temperamental. When we moved into our dream home a couple of years ago, I had to lure her into her pet carrier to move her to the new house. She fought w/all of her 4 pounds that she weighs to get out of the carrier. So of course, the carrier door chose that precise moment to break so I couldn't latch her in. I had to drive across town holding the door shut with my arm while she threatened to kill me and my whole family, through angry meows. Then when I finally got her settled in the garage, she literally would not leave the garage for 2 months. She is now comfortably a lazy, spoiled middle aged house cat. Everything in her life was looking up...
Until we saw a website for a local shelter, that had a female chocolate lab available for adoption. She was there so long, she was up for lethal injection at the end of the week if not adopted. Bret was supposed to just go check her out, but ended up adopting her on the spot and bringing her home to me and the daycare kids. And then leaving to go to work with me, toddlers, and a scared full grown lab with no dog food, no leash, and covered with ticks. But she has pulled through! Her name is Finnigan, but we call her Finn. We have had her for 4 years now. Since coming to live with us, she has gained a good 20 pounds, some in muscle tone, but mostly fat from table scraps. She is a house dog, whose interests include, in no particular order, chasing Lucy the cat and making her as paranoid as possible, eating Lucy's food, going around the table at meal times and eating all the scraps the babies give her, sleeping for 20 hours a day, obsessively chasing a laser pointer, barking at any possible noise that could be someone at the door, and embarrassing me every time we step outside.
We live with a large sports complex behind our house, complete with a paved walking trail. So every morning first thing, I wake up to a cat on me & a dog beside the bed with her head on the mattress. They can get along well enough to agree that I should be woke up at the crack of dawn to fulfill their needs. I take Finn around the park every morning, where she consistently embarrasses me. She runs toward any dog she sees, (pulling me behind her holding her leash) then gets the other dogs all riled up then pees right in front of the owners. She runs to the playground and goes up the stairs to the landing to the slides, again with me attached to her leash. She only poops when people are walking by to witness. She was sick to her stomach the other day, so I took her out to see if she needed to vomit. She sure did - but made sure she waited until 3 people were walking by, then she did so in a very loud, disgusting fashion. And then proceeded to eat her vomit, still right in front of the people. She has ruined all of my credibility with every walker in that park.
So, between the babies and animals and teenagers, I am gifted with memories and stories every single day. If you would like to read any of my stories, return here - I promise to share them with you!
God Is Within Her, She Will Not Fall
Psalms 46:5
I have always loved your stories, Jayne, and now I get to share them! Love you!
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