Where am I going? I have a DREAM!

A friend once asked me in the middle of the most random scenario and at the most random time. What is your dream? He wants to open a bar and see the various people that visit. I was taken aback and unable to answer. That feels like such a big question. I wanted to climb on the table and be able to proclaim with confidence in a MLK junior voice…I have a DREAM…and then be able to finish that statement. But the thing I realized is that I don’t have a FREAKING clue what my dream is. NOT A CLUE! This is SCARY STUFF you adults that surround me. I DON’T HAVE A DREAM! How did this happen? When was I supposed to make a dream in adult class and why did I stay at home binging on Netflix when all of the other good adults were out making dreams. Where did my dream go? This stressed me more than it should have. Almost a week and a half later I had a response. For those adult in the room, a week and a half isn’t a long time for you to think about something. I am proud of you and I am ordering gold stars now. For me…a week and half is eternity. FOREVER! I walked up to that friend and I replied. I like to share my stories and I want to blog. I want to ramble to the internet in hopes to encourage one person. What is super fun about that goal is that I want to make one person encouraged. If you are reading this post then you are my one. But the truth is you are probably my husband, best friend or mom…HI GUYS! It’s me….I am on the internet. If you are a stranger, leave a comment. Not sure how I make it public but YAY!

What am I doing here?

I love to tell stories. I think that stories make the world a better place. I also believe that random stuff happens to us daily. Those are moments that can be funny, weird or encouraging. I also believe that while God loves to move mountains that often He whispers to us. I am learning to watch for the whispers. I also have a weird life. I’m not sure if I create this weirdness, attract the weirdness or if I AM the weirdness. Here is what I do know. My life is WEIRD. I promise to share my little life with you. It was be a few things that I can promise you. Raw, random and real.

RAW. I will always be raw. This doesn’t mean crude but rather it means that before I sugar coat and dress up a discussion. I will be much more likely to type it out, mildly spell check it and then hit POST. I won’t be fancy enough for those of you that need that. Actually, I am thinking that I may make my posts into grammar lessons for my homeschooling kiddos and let them teach me J

RANDOM. When I decided that I wanted to blog I realized that I needed do the mature adult thing and decide what I wanted to blog about. There are cooking blogs, craft blogs, wife blogs, life blogs, red fish, blue fish, one fish, two fish…..sorry I am back now J I can’t pick a WHAT! So until then I shall be random. The general theme shall be “there is no theme!”

REAL. I am going to lay out real life. I will promise that all stories involving real people in my life will be approved by those real people. My stories about the girl in the third grade that stole my denim purse and then used MY lip gloss in front of me that I want to write about. ß THIS is a sentence fragment and I like it like that! Well those won’t be approved because well although I remember her name Facebook stalking before approval to post feels weirder than just posting without permission. 

Who are these people that keep following me? Otherwise known as my family.

I have two beautiful children E is currently 11 years old. She is beautiful, freckled, artistic and adopted.  She was adopted through foster care and it was an amazing and horrible process! If you are reading this and you are an adoptive momma, dad or a kiddo who was adopted. Give yourself a hug from me! Families are made in all kinds of weird ways and you are AMAZING! I tear up hoping that just one person feels encourage by that sentence. 

L is getting ready to turn 10 so soon! He was biological. This mean he grew in my belly, kicked the crud out of me, and made me pee myself once or more than twice. At the final end this child was so attached to his momma that they had to cut him out of me. He is a weird combination of my husband and I. The most unusual part of each of us combined into this human we grew. He is funny, quirky and borderline Autistic. We have enough issues with the Autism spectrum to make life fun but not enough that I can even claim to understand the life you live if you have a child that is deeper into the Autism spectrum. If that is you, please grab yourself a cup of coffee because goodness knows you need it!

Hubs is almost 35. I am a cougar and he is younger than me. It’s technically only about 6 months but bear with me and let me feel rebellious here. I have known my husband since kindergarten. Now before you go painting black and white pictures in your head of two little kids in love in a black and white world with a few red roses. Come on…you have seen the posters! That was NOT us! He was an idiot and I was shy. He was the mouthy kid that always had a girlfriend and I turned to Jell-O whenever I saw my crush. We started dating at 20 and married by the time I was 23. E was born 6 months after our wedding and L was born 18 months after her. There are a thousand stories that need to be writing about that gap between 2001 and the current so I think I will write a blog about that.

These are my people. Mi familia. My crew. We are the Clayton Clan and to retrieve my family at large events my husband or I in a very Transformers style voice “Claytons ROLL OUT!” So here we roll....

Who am I?

Ahem…my name….my name is....my name is.....Slim Shady….wait no…

My name is Jessi. I am currently 35 years old. I have been known to actually think that I am not the correct age. I was picking up a race packet before my first half marathon and the ONLY facts I needed to know where my name and age. I could only answer one of those questions correctly. Luckily the nice man in the purple sparkly outfit and matching tutu was generous enough to help me with what age I should say to be able to pick up my packet. After walking away confused, I was able to verify my correct age and it was the number on the race packet info. All grown-ups should just know their own age. This is probably why quite often I will refuse to qualify myself as a grown-up. I know that I am not a child anymore but not certain that I qualify as a grown up.