Merry Merry

Truth be told, we have a lot of things going on right now. So, I haven't forgotten you. We just didn't send out cards this year.

We also didn't spend a ton of money on Christmas gifts, for various reasons, including the need to save for baby Noah, personal convictions (That's not what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown,) and a real-life, honest to goodness Scrooge.

So, we're keeping it simple this year. We're not traveling since it's not advisable for someone who is this close to baby time to be far from home and OB/GYN. I'm making the gifts for grandparents. We're filling our anticipation time with activities that require us to sit close to each other and interact, like reading Christmas books and baking cookies together as a family.

I kind of like it this way. I like that we're making our own Christmas memories in our oh-so-snug little dwelling. Oh, don't get me wrong; I have every intention of having us in a different cozy home this time next year - one with room for all five of us and a bit more storage space - but I hope that the simplicity of just hanging out as a family, anticipating the coming Christ together, and just not putting our focus on presents and making everyone else happy, will continue in the coming years.

I know I say it every year, but really, who looks happier?
These people, desperate for material stuff:

Or, these people, who care more about who's around the tree than what's under it:

I think so, too.

5 more Advent days until Christmas!

5 Reasons We Don't Do the Elf On the Shelf Thing

Don't worry. This isn't going to be one of those self-righteous, "I'm holier than you because at Christmas, my children are ONLY allowed to talk about Jesus, and I don't care if they're just kids, they won't go to heaven if they have age-appropriate fun, nanny-nanny-boo-boo," posts. But, if you know me, you probably knew that.

We don't do the whole Elf On the Shelf thing. I have my reasons. If you're interested, here they are:

1. I spend weeks singing to my kids about how Santa can see them when they're sleeping, he knows when they're awake, and he knows if they've been bad or good. They know they're supposed to hang their stockings and say their prayers. So, if Santa is all-knowing and all-seeing, why the heck does he need this creepy doll to be his informant? Why is this elf trying to usurp Santa's power? And, furthermore, why is he such a tattletale? If I'm going to tell Sweet Pea that tattling on her brother will earn her a spot on the naughty list, how can I explain to her that we brought this stupid, plastic elf into the house to keep an eye on her and then go blabbing to Santa when she steps out of line?

2. I don't have the energy or the time to keep cleaning up after this little piss ant elf every time "he" messes up my house. I can barely keep up with the kids' messes, as it is. The last thing I want is to add more work to my load, especially at 8 months pregnant.

3. As I mentioned before, it's creepy. Don't think so? That's because you didn't grow up with my mother. Let me explain. My mother let me watch horror movies when I was a child. Oh, I don't mean she stood behind me with a cattle prod and ordered me to keep my eyes glued to what Michael Myers was doing or anything. But, she has a rather...odd sense of humor and apparently found it amusing to tell me that Jaws was about a little fishy and The Exorcist was about a little girl and a priest. Also, most of her bookshelves we lined with Stephen King novels and books by Ann Rule (true crime, mostly murders, I think. But, hey, I saw her reading, which made me a reader! Thanks, Mom!) Don't judge her; when I got scared, she either turned it off or sent me out of the room. Still, this explains why the idea of a doll with roaming eyes sitting on my mantel watching my every move, is just a little unsettling.

4. I've lost count of the number of friends who started the tradition thinking it would be cute and fun, but then dread seeing the freakish imp come out of the box every Christmas season. From what I understand, unless you have all the time in the world to invent new things do the elf to "do," and the world's best mama memory so that you don't forget to put move it, this poppet can be a real pain in the, uh, neck. And, don't get me started on those Pinterest moms who have a list of 3,762 Elf On the Shelf activities. What the heck do they do all day?? Where are their children? Who does their dishes? When do they have time to make inane lists like this??

5. OK, here's where I'll bring up the Jesus thing. I already have a fun countdown to Christmas that I do with my kids. It's called Advent. Maybe I'm just not one of those moms who feels as if she has to latch on to every trendy, jingle-belly thing that everyone else is doing, just to cram as many Christmas traditions into 25 days as I possibly can. I've never been much of a trend-follower, anyway.  Yes, we do fun activities and we do have traditions for this season. But, seriously, mama. Relax. Breathe. Anticipate. For us, it's a lot more fun and a lot less pressure that way, and we're pretty sure no one is going to be scarred for life because they didn't have a weirdo doll to invade their house every year, even if all their friends did.

Sweet Pea is FOUR!

Happy Birthday, sweet girl! We love you more than you can ever imagine!

30 Days of Thankfulness, Part 5

And, the conclusion...

1. At this moment, I am thankful that this is a Harry Potter weekend on ABC Family, so that I have something to watch when football is on.

2. I'm thankful for clean, running water.

3. I'm thankful that there are people in the world who are thoughtful and considerate.

4. I'm thankful that I get to celebrate all the wonderful events that will take place over the next couple of months - birthdays, Christmas, new baby - with this family that God has knitted together with his own hands.

Peace and Blessings to you.

30 Days of Thankfulness, Part 4

7 is the magic number for today.

1. I'm thankful that I had a good, brief checkup with Dr. T today. One pound gained. Blood pressure lower than I thought it would be, all things considered. Heartbeat good. See you in two weeks.

2. I'm thankful for the life of my great-grandmother's baby sister, Aunt Inez, whose physical presence will most likely be leaving us very soon. She made fantastic chicken spaghetti and is the only family member, including myself, who ever remembered that I am allergic to feather pillows.

3. I'm thankful that I get to watch my favorite Thanksgiving cartoons from my childhood with my babies.

4. I'm thankful for a warm, dry home when it's so cold and rainy outside.

5. I'm thankful that my almost-four-year-old can list several things for which she is thankful, then tell me that she loves and thanks God with her, "whole heart. All of it."

6. I'm thankful for a husband who respects me as his equal. You'd be amazed how many women not only don't have that, but think it's OK.

7. I'm thankful for a pastor who admonished us to want what we have and be grateful for it. Sometimes we needs reminders that if we are fed, clothed, sheltered, and loved, we are among the richest people in the world.

30 Days of Thankfulness, Part 3

Has it really been 10 days since my last post? When did I become such a slacker?

1. I'm thankful that DWH has the opportunity to look for a job that he finds fulfilling.

2. I'm thankful for good friends who understand my idiosyncrasies and not only endure them, but embrace them and love me because of them.

3. I'm thankful for Sweet Pea's sass, because she wouldn't have such a smart mouth if she weren't such a smart girl.

4. I'm thankful for Little Buddy's adventures in leaping and climbing and scaring me out of my wits, because that means he has a healthy little body to scare me with.

5. I'm thankful that Baby N has taken up residence in my rib cage and enjoys kicking my lungs, because that means he's healthy enough in there to remind me that I can breathe.

6. I'm thankful that we have reliable transportation. I know I do this one every year, but if you've ever owned a car that you had to anoint with holy water every morning just to get it to start because you couldn't afford anything else, you know why this one is such a big deal to me.

7. I'm thankful that God loves us enough to gradually usher in the seasons and to give us the chance to enjoy the beauty of the transition.

8. I'm thankful for a church home that focuses on mission and service, and encourages its members to do the same.

9. I'm thankful for books.

10. I'm thankful for my education. Not something to be taken for granted, folks. Not everyone is privileged enough to have one.

This picture is three years old, but I still love it.

30 Days of Thankfulness, Part 2

It's been 6 days since my last post, so, here we go:

1. I'm thankful that I have the best husband in the entire world. I could make a list of all the reasons he's the most incredible husband ever, but you would never finish reading this. All I know is that I could never be married to anyone else, and if I never believed that God sometimes handpicks people to love each other and live together for the rest of their lives, I do now.

2. I'm thankful for my friend, Sara V, for not only sharing her gratefulness during the month of November, but every day this year. That's right. Starting on January 1, Sara expressed love and appreciation for her blessings each day of the year. She has offered important (and usually comical, in true Sara "Betty Sue" V fashion) reminders of how much there is to thank God for, no matter how small.

3. I'm thankful that I'm not in my third trimester during the hottest months of the year, again.

4. I'm thankful for silence. Sometimes, I just need to be quiet by myself or I will lose my mind. And for that reason...

5. I'm thankful that both my children are good sleepers and receptive to schedules and routines. Because, well, Mommy can't function without schedules and routines and, more importantly, a brief period of quiet time every day. And, if Baby N is not as receptive to the whole schedule/routine/quiet time thing as his brother and sister, Mommy will be thankful for her new job at Barnes and Noble until the new school year begins. (Because, what else can you do with two degrees in English/Reading education?)

6. I'm thankful for coffee. This one needs no further explanation.

30 Days of Thankfulness, Part 1

I didn't start these thankfulness posts on the first day of the month, and it's doubtful that I will post every day. Instead, I will try to post weekly, as is usually my habit, and express my gratitude for each day since my last post.

As today is the third day of the month, I would like to say how grateful I am to God for three of the four great loves of my life.

One will celebrate her fourth birthday one month from tomorrow.

One recently turned two.

One will show us his sweet face in about eleven weeks.

There are not enough words for how much love my three beautiful gifts from God, and I can only hope to be half the mom they deserve.

I love you, Sweet Pea, Buddy, and Baby N (Sorry. You don't have a nickname, yet. You don't even have a middle name, yet, for that matter.). All of you light up my life in ways that I never believed possible until God sent you to us.

P.S. I'm thankful for the other great love of my life, as well, but that's another post.

Panic!!

Do you have any idea what I realized yesterday? DO YOU??

I am already THREE DAYS into my THIRD trimester!

Somebody get me a paper bag to breathe into, because I am not ready! Not ready, I tell you! Not ready!

We don't have a house, yet. Noah has no bedding, no newborn clothes, no pacis, I still need to order new tubing for the breast pump, I haven't preregistered at the hospital yet, we haven't bought any diapers, we need to get Sweet Pea a new bed so we can move Buddy into the toddler bed and...Oh, Lordy, we have to start that whole transition process and why in the world do you look so calm???

Do you remember this conversation between Monica and Chandler?

Monica: "Chandler, you're panicking."
Chandler: "Uh, huh! Join me, won't you?!"

Yeah, I'm Chandler and DWH is Monica. This is what I wanted to say to him yesterday when I shared my third trimester epiphany with him, and he informed me that he thought my third trimester started last week, anyway. Of course, he rarely panics and panicking seems to be what I do best. Good thing we have each other to keep things balanced, huh?

Still, EEK! We're running out of time, here!

In less than three months, I will be a mom of three. My natural inclination toward anxiety and perfectionism - and maybe a few stray hormones - have convinced me that the youngest one will be naked, diaper-less, paci-free, and sleeping in the bathroom linen closet. But, that's not going to happen, right? RIGHT?

Maybe I should just go get a pedicure. Or, maybe this Saturday's lunch with one of my dearest friends in God's creation will be good for me.

I know I should put it in my prayer box.

I know I should do that first.

Then, I'll have a long-overdue lunch with Nina.

Just breathe.

This Week's Thoughts On Being a Mom

File this one under, "The Flotsam and Jetsam In My Head."

Sometimes, random thoughts on this incredible journey as the mommy of the house invade my head. It happens to the best of us. So, again, to let you in on the craziness that is the inside of my head, and perhaps to make you wonder why you read this blog in the first place, I'll share.

1. Sometimes, when you're a mom, it's ok to hear your dad's voice coming out of your mouth, instead of your own mother's. For instance, it's perfectly fine to sing, "Blue Eyes Crying In the Rain," while rocking your toddler to sleep. Also, the following phrases are acceptable to use when admonishing your preschooler:
"Don't yell across the house like some little redneck. Come in here if you've got something to say." "Quit dragging your feet. Pick 'em up and walk."
 And, the one I heard most frequently as a child, "Watch where you're going before you break your neck!"

2. The Harry Potter series teaches many valuable lessons about friendship, love, and doing the right thing. But, we often overlook the lessons we learn from the series about being a mom. I know you're thinking about Lily, and how she died for her son because she loved him so much. Or, perhaps you have Narcissa Malfoy in mind, given that she did risk her life by lying to You-Know-Who in order to protect her child. And, yes, those are important mom moments. I can't imagine a mom who wouldn't do the same thing.
But, there are other, more subtle references to a great mom. Yeah, she defeated Bellatrix Lestrange with just a flick of the wand to save her only daughter, but long before that, Molly Weasley was a truly awesome mama. Why do you think all her kids turned out so great? Having seven fabulous children is not an accident. (Yes, seven. All. Percy came around and fought the good fight, didn't he?) I'm reminded of Harry's thought on the Burrow - and honestly, you can say what you want about me, but this has helped me chill out about my momming skills more than any other testimony I've heard or read. After growing up in the stark, spotless, loveless environment of the Dursley's, Harry muses that, and I'm paraphrasing, he feels home at the Burrow when he sees the Wellington boots on the stairs and the dishes in the sink, because it reminds him that a real family lives there and that they love each other.
So, yeah. I have dishes in my sink and my house currently smells like the chicken chili in the crock pot, because I love my family enough to feed them without worrying about keeping an immaculate kitchen. There are toys all over my living room floor because my babies like to play in here.
Oh, and there are some rain boots by the stairs. I keep them there as a reminder of why there are dishes in the sink and toys on the floor - and that's OK.

3. Gender-based double standards are stupid. No need to elaborate. It's just a fact.

And, that's what's floating around between my ears, folks.
Thanks for letting me ramble.

Happy Birthday, Little Buddy!

 

Two years ago today...

One year ago today...

And we love you more than ever. Happy Birthday, sweet boy!

Another Countdown Begins

This one's more exciting, though.

Today, we begin the 100 day countdown to Baby Noah's due date. (Sorry, but there's no middle name, yet.)

My sister-in-law suggested I make a paper chain to remove a link each day. Can you tell her mom's an elementary school teacher? ;-) Thanks, E!

Still, it's not a half bad idea. I could let Sweet Pea and Buddy remove a link every day. Sweet Pea is already so thrilled about having a new baby in the house. She's so cute, putting her hands on my belly and trying to feel him. She goes through her toys and lets me know which ones Baby Noah will be allowed to claim as his own. When we go to Target, she wants to buy bottles so she can help feed him and has picked out some outfits that she thinks he needs to have. She's concerned that his blankets might not be soft enough and - like her mother - a little worried that he doesn't have his own room, yet.
Such a fantastic big sister!

Buddy, on the other hand, when confronted with the notion of another Head in the house, responds with complete indifference or, as this morning when someone mentioned the new baby, "No new baby. Yucky!"
Oh, well. He'll come around. What choice does he have, right?

It's funny how all pregnancies are different, isn't it? With Sweet Pea, I truly enjoyed my pregnancy and I knew she was safe inside me, so I wasn't sure I wanted to let her out. She wouldn't be as close to me if she joined us on the outside.
My pregnancy with Buddy was not nearly as enjoyable as the first one. Oh, he made up for all the swelling and heartburn and head-to-toe body aches once he got here with his near-constant smiles and warm baby cuddles, but from July to October 2011, I really wanted to serve him an eviction notice.
The pregnancy, itself, has not been too bad thus far. In general, I feel pretty good. But, I'm ready for Noah to be here. I want to hold him and feel his breath on my neck while he sleeps.

100 days. That's not so very long.

It's Not That Bad. Really.

OK, before I set off on one of my tangents, let me say that this is spewing from the aftermath of what I considered to be one of the most negative and discouraging talks on marriage I have ever heard, followed immediately by one of the most whiny devotionals on motherhood I have ever read. So, ignore me, bear with me, or take it all in. Whichever you prefer.

I do enjoy a good devotional and/or blog post that encourages me to be the best mom/wife/teacher (when I go back to work) that I can possibly be, because I believe with everything I am that God has called me to be all three of those things.

I just wish I found them to be more of an encouragement than the works of someone who is bitter and complaining about having a family.

Here's the general message I get from most of the "Mom encouragers" that I receive in my inbox or read in devotional books:
"We understand what it's like to be a mom. Oh, laundry is so horrible! It's the most awful thing in the world to do dishes! If I have to change one more diaper, I'll put my head through a wall! I can't stand to get out of bed in the morning, so I haven't showered in a week and I can't remember the last time I brushed my teeth or hair! It's such a miserable chore to be with my husband, especially since he's so incompetent and can't read my mind or do anything right - ever! Woe is me, the suffering mom! I know you feel the same way, but SMILE!! That's Jesus's butt you're wiping every time you change a diaper. Be thankful that your life is horrible! God wouldn't have it any other way."

Um...really?

Do you really think you're writing something I can relate to, just because we've both given birth?

Because, seriously, it's not that bad.

Do I need a break? Yes. Do I get tired of the monotony of loading the dishwasher and making sandwiches? Sure.

But, would I feel any differently about chores if I were single and childless? Nope. And, having been single and childless for the first thirty-one years of my life, I can say that from experience. I had to wash clothes even when it was just me and my dog. I didn't have the luxury of a dishwasher in my little apartment, so I did them by hand. I may not have been changing diapers, but I did take out the dog and pick up her poop. I know it's not the same thing, but they're still mindless chores that we can't escape - whether we have kids or not. Your dirty floors and dusty windowsills didn't just materialize when you got married and had children. It's not motherhood that's making you have to clean up after yourself. It's called not being a lazy bum.
Just thank God for the blessing of actually having clothes to put away and a floor to mop.

Of course I have days when I completely understand why women in the 1940's were prescribed (and addicted to) Valium. I'd never take it that far, but there are days - many, in fact - when I am just itching to go back to work. It has nothing to do with being a mom. It has to do with the fact that when I decided to take a hiatus from teaching to hang out with my babies, I had been working for literally half my life. It's difficult to go from engaging in a career you really, really love, to staying home and trying to fill the hours with meaningful activities. That, too, would be true whether or not I had children. It's not motherhood that makes me want to go back to work. It's called a desire for intellectual stimulation. Besides, I like talking about books all day. Except Lord of the Flies. Still hate that one.

I'm not going to lie to you. I will spend the next four to five years getting irritated with the tiny humans I have created and how they interrupt me every time I try to talk to DWH, and I will long for some only-child time. (If you are an only child, you understand why this is vital to everyone's well-being.) Then, there will be something else to irritate me. It's just a minor irritation, not the end of the world. But, would I rather have the alternative? What in the world would I do without my Sweet Pea and Buddy? If you ask me, not having them at all would be a lot more miserable than cleaning up their vomit.

OK, here's the big one. For those of you who can totally relate to the kinds of posts and devotionals described here, this may come as a bit of a shock. Are you ready?
My husband is not stupid.

Get the smelling salts, recover a little bit, and I'll continue.

He's not. He's actually a very intelligent man. He is not a bumbling idiot who is too dumb to understand how the dishwasher works. It actually annoys me when women portray their husbands in that way. Don't make your husband look like a moron to other people - especially your kids. Unless, of course, your husband is a moron, in which case, to quote my great-grandmother, "I don't believe I'd have told that."
As for my husband, he enjoys spending time with his children, and is a fantastic father. We're a good team. Yes, I said TEAM. This isn't a boss/employee relationship. He doesn't feel that my needs should be placed on the back burner to accommodate his. We're in this together.
Speaking of your husband, or of men in general, as if they are total idiots who can't breathe unless their wives tell them the correct way to do it, does not endear me to your devotional or your blog post. It just makes you look mean-spirited and petty.

Look, it's hard enough with all the moms out there who think their way is the only correct way, bashing anyone who does it differently. Do we really need to beat ourselves up and make our lives seem worse than they are?
Really, is it that bad?

Happy Fall, Y'all!

Brunswick stew is in the crock pot. Pumpkin spice cookies are in the oven. Pumpkins, scarecrows, and multi-colored leaves will be adorning my front door and my mantel momentarily.

There will be birthdays to celebrate, pumpkins to carve, costumes to wear, candy to beg, turkeys to slaughter, cranberries to sauce, leaves to admire, boots to pull on, sweaters to snuggle, and Charlie Brown specials to watch.

Yep.

Best time of year.

Happy Autumn!

Bound to Happen

I guess it was inevitable. Having no siblings, I can't say that I ever had the experience of injuring or being injured by one. I had a friend named Valorie who dropped something on my foot once. That was unpleasant.

Anyway, yesterday saw the first of what I am sure will be many accidents in which one of my children was injured by a sibling.

Sweet Pea and Buddy were playing on the couch, giggling as usual, when I heard a screech and a cry. I turned around to find Buddy rubbing his eye and wailing, Sweet Pea looking completely innocent. I asked what happened.

Now, if you are a parent, I am absolutely certain that you know Sweet Pea's reply. If not, I'll fill you in.

"I don't know."

It didn't take much coercion for her to tell me that they had been playing and she accidentally poked him in the eye.

Yep. Shallow scratch on the cornea. Doctor visit. Eye patch that stayed on his face for less time than it takes him to eat a Nilla wafer.

So, we had a follow-up appointment this morning and all is well. He can see just fine and he's going back to school tomorrow.

You may recall that Sweet Pea did the very same thing to my eye a little over a year ago. I see a future in optometry for that girl.

You're next, DWH.

"Oh, Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful...

...Beautiful BOY!"

We are thrilled to announce that the new baby will be inheriting Baby D's hand-me-downs!

It's another baby boy for us, and we couldn't be happier.

And, yes, the ultrasound technician did confirm that this baby has some big ol' feet. He'll be in good company with his siblings. :)

Can't wait to meet the new little guy!

A name will be revealed when we settle on a middle name. And the negotiations begin...

Here We Go

In three days, it will begin again.

Don't look at me like that. You live in the South (probably), so you know exactly what I'm talking about.

In spite of my complete lack of interest in the actual game, I will do my part by wearing something houndstooth, adorning my children in script A's and cutesy pictures of Big Al, and hanging our crimson and houndstooth H on the front door. It really is a pretty H. (Thanks, Nina!) Oh, and DWH thinks I need to do that feigning interest in something I don't care about in order to participate in conversations thing, so I will occasionally ask the score. It's a school spirit thing, really. Roll Tide and all that.
I suppose I should get a new Mercer t-shirt too, since they have a football team now.

I know, I go on about how little I care for sports every year at this time. But, I will remind you that I enjoy football season just as much as the rest of you, only for different reasons. Hooray for nachos! Hooray for good excuses to get together with old friends! Hooray for knowing we're one weekend closer to fall!
Also, it's not that I haven't tried. I have. I have gone to a few games. I read the book DWH got me for Christmas one year. I've stayed in the same room when the game was on and tried - Oh! how I've tried - to pay attention. It just is not my thing. And, that's OK. I still support those of you who love it.

So, even if I won't be entirely sure who Alabama is playing until the end of November (even I know that one!), I hope they win. And, if my eyes glaze over when you start talking about touchdowns and tackles (Wow! my sports vocabulary has VASTLY improved over the last ten years!), don't judge me too harshly. And, in return, I promise to try not to judge you when you don't know the difference between a Death Eater and a Dementor. That's fair, right?

P.S. I'd like to share a quick anecdote on the subject. DWH and his brothers reportedly told their younger sister that she would never find a man if she didn't like sports. According to the sister, this influenced her decision to learn about football.
Fast forward several years. DWH married me. He married the woman who, when we met, had ESPN parentally controlled out of her TV because it was just a nuisance, getting in the way of channels she might actually watch.
I love irony.
I love my husband for  putting up with me, too.

P.P.S.  Every day = daily. Each day. "I brush my teeth every day."
           Everyday = routine. It's an adjective. "I have a long list of everyday chores to complete."
My apologies. I had to get that out of my system.
Thus concludes my pompous rant for the day.

Because This Blog Is My Baby Book

Sort of. I have a baby book for each of my children, and someday, I'm going to scroll through this blog and write everything in them. Someday, D might want to know that his first word was "light," or that he stopped eating anything other than fruit, yogurt, or bread on the week of his first birthday.

I keep seeing these adorable pictures that parents are creating for the first day of school, with fun facts about their sweet little ones listed on the side to remind them of who they were when they were little. So, I'd like to make such a list for my babies, minus the pictures because I have been remiss in my camera-wielding duties as of late.

Sweet Pea
Age: 3
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blond
Favorite Food: Yogurt and strawberries
Favorite Books: The Fancy Nancy Series and The Jesus Storybook Bible
Favorite Colors: Purple, pink, and orange - in that order.
Favorite TV Show: Sophia the First
Favorite Toys: Your dollhouse, Little People, and baby dolls
When I Grow Up: "I'm going to be in the circus. I'm going to do ballet stuff and princess things."

Sweet Pea, you are a very polite and affectionate little girl. You and your brother love each other so much, and I hope that continues. You like coloring, painting, and crafts, as well as anything that has to do with ballet. You will begin dance classes next month. Yay! You are very, very funny and you already have your own sense of wit, along with a bit of a sassy mouth. You also like to talk. A lot. You are showing signs of being strong-willed and independent and I wouldn't have you any other way. You're just a little shy when you first meet new people or enter new surroundings, but it doesn't take long for you to warm up and have a good time.
We love you, sweet girl!

Buddy (Because you're too big for me to call you Baby D anymore.)
Age: 22 months
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown (and it grows like crazy!)
Favorite Food: Bananas, grapes, yogurt, and pancakes. You refuse to eat much else.
Favorite Books: The How Do Dinosaurs... Series and If You Give a Mouse a Cookie
Favorite Toys: Your pirate ship, your Batcave, and whatever Sweet Pea has.

Buddy, you are also very polite and affectionate. Although, for some reason, you say, "thank you" to everyone except Daddy. Little stinker. For most of the day, you would rather play, but when you're ready to snuggle and read books, you're ready right then. Speaking of books, you can't get enough of them. I love watching you sit on the living room floor and "read" all the books you've pulled off the shelf. You like Batman, Caillou, and anything Disney. You smile and laugh during most of your waking hours. You are definitely more of a daredevil than your sister, resulting in bumps, bruises, and booboos. It makes me a nervous wreck, but it doesn't seem to faze you at all. You just get up and start over again. We can't wait to see what the next year brings!
We love you, Bud!

Both

You both love music, and right now, you seem to have a small addiction to the Beatles. Every time we get into the car, you ask for "Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds," and if we don't play it, you start singing it, anyway.
You are both great nappers, awesome night time sleepers, and terribly picky eaters. But, since I'd rather pack some just-in-case fruit and a sandwich than stay up all night, I'm OK with that.

You are both wonderful, smart, strong people who have the potential to show the love and hope and compassion of Christ in the world. Do it. All the money and notoriety in the world will never give you the peace that living out that mission can give.

We love you both so much, it's hard to put into words. But, I hope that love will help to build you into the awesome individuals you were made to be.
Oh, and be nice to your new brother or sister. S/he will love you, too. :)

There Goes the Neighborhood? Back-To-School in Birmingham

Happy Back-To-School!!
Yes, some of you have to wait until next week to watch your little ones enter or re-enter the world where they learn to love learning. But, a good number of you have started that journey today.
You've already bought your #2 pencils and have unearthed the absolutely joyful aroma of a brand new, recently opened three-ring binder. Mmmmmm. You've sniffed the wide- or college-ruled paper and smiled to yourself as you pondered all the awesome things that are going to happen between now and the end of May. Your fingers have itched to open the colored pencils that you can't use yet because, technically, they're for school.

Or, you just realized that your friend is even more dorky than you thought she was and probably needs to go back to work in the near future because she misses teaching like she would miss a piece of her heart if someone came along and ripped it out of her chest.

I'm not sure how to smoothly segue into the thoughts that have been rattling around in this crazy brain of mine, so I'll just set it up with a disclaimer.

If I step on your toes, I'm sorry. I am not trying to sound self-righteous and I am not trying to insult Birmingham. I am sincerely curious about this because, honestly, neither DWH nor I have experienced this until moving here. I do, however, think that this attitude may have something to do with why I often feel like such a square peg in the Birminghole.
Also, DWH, I'm about to start harping, so feel free to stop reading now. Love you.

Why is it (and I really do expect someone to respond so that I fully understand) that people here in Birmingham refer to children who live in apartments with absolute disgust and sheer revulsion?

I need to understand this. It baffles me. What do they have against children who live in apartments? Or, any children, for that matter? Do they honestly believe that their children are superior to someone else's? Because, um, they're not. Really. Neither are mine.
Since moving here almost four years ago, I have heard several people say, unapologetically, that they do not want their children to go to school with children who live in apartments. I have heard more than one mom claim that her child's school's test scores are so low because their school has students who live in (ugh!) apartments. I had mentioned it to DWH a few times, particularly when we had conversations about why I was having such a hard time making friends here, but he had never heard it for himself until the other day when he took Sweet Pea to play at the pool. There were a couple of families with young children there, and they were discussing different neighborhoods in the area. One man said that he would love to move into a nearby neighborhood, but it's in ______ school zone and they let apartment kids go there!
Needless to say, DWH was as disgusted with the sentiment as I am.

So, what is it? Is it that they don't live in a four-bedroom brick house? Is it that their parents don't make as much money as someone else's? Is it (gasp!) OH! You don't think the privileged kids might sit next to the apartment kids in class and have them breathe their poverty on the pristine little cherubs, do you?? Oh, the horror!

I've heard this nonsense in the fellowship hall of a church. Really? That's the example you want to set for your kids? "Let's go to church and pray and live out the gospel of Christ - except when it comes to THOSE kids. I don't want you to go to school with THOSE kids. They're not like us." Sounds like a pretty good example of why non-Christians have a hard time taking Christians seriously, to me.

There are a lot of people with whom I can't identify. The, "I'm too good to live near a Wal-Mart" people are a bit of an enigma. I don't get the people who can't let their daughters leave the house without a bow that's the size of their living room. I'm sure I'll never understand people who don't like chocolate or who enjoy camping. But, I've known all those people everywhere. The anti-kids who live in apartments thing is new.

Maybe I just don't want my kids to be so naïve that they think everyone is exactly like them.

Maybe I wonder, if these people knew that I had lived in a trailer park or a neighborhood across the street from a housing project, would they still be friends with me? Or would I bring their kids' test scores down?

P.S. If you want to see something inspiring, check out Olivia in Peru. Olivia is a former student of whom I am very proud. She is living out God's mission for her life by teaching the children of missionaries in Peru - right alongside children who don't even have apartments to live in. Maybe we need a little more of that.

Just Four Weeks Away...

...from learning the sex of Volume III in the Babyhead Trilogy. Already?? Wow. Compared to the other two, I feel like this pregnancy has flown. I have my sixteen week checkup in a few days, and at my next appointment, we get to find out whose hand-me-downs this baby will be wearing.

Maybe this pregnancy seems to be going so much more quickly because it's, you know, not my first rodeo and I'm not worried that I'm doing irreparable harm to the baby every time I choose to watch an Adam Sandler movie over listening to Bach. I do love a good fugue, but sometimes you just need to laugh at something stupid.
Maybe this one doesn't seem to be taking so long because we're running out of living space for all these little people, and running out of time to secure more. Space, that is. Not people.
Maybe it's because, with the other two, I spent so much time (seriously, soooo much time) thinking about things like whether I was having a boy or a girl, who the baby would look like, what name we would finally choose, etc.

It's not as if I haven't thought about those things this time. It's just that, I already have a girl and a boy, so I really don't have a preference either way. I will be equally overjoyed with either. And, for once, I'm not just saying that because it's what I'm supposed to say. When we found out Sweet Pea was a girl, I acted all pleasantly surprised, but on the inside, my brain said, "YES!!!!" I really wanted Brother D to be a boy, even though I was terrified when it was confirmed. Still am, a little, but mostly when he tries so jump off furniture and such. (WHY does he have a death wish??? Am I that bad???)

We already have one who looks like DWH and one who looks like me, so I really don't care who this baby resembles. (Don't make me get out the baby pictures from the 70's. That girl is DWH all over.) Who will s/he look like? Me? DWH? His family? My family? Leon?

Of course, the baby will look like Leon. Everyone looks like Leon.
 (I'll be happy to explain that to any non-Heads who are curious.)

I have a blond and a brunette.
Maybe I will finally have a redhead, although the odds are not ever in my favor on that one. :(
I've had one bald baby and one with a shock of thick, brown hair.

As far as names are concerned, a girl will have the name I promised to DWH a few years ago, and boy name discussions are going much more smoothly than last time. Poor Brother D didn't have a middle name until we were filling out the paperwork for his birth certificate.

And, what do you think?

Will our trilogy be completed with a girl or a boy?
Blond? Brunette? Redhead??

We can provide an answer to the first one just after Labor Day, but you'll have to wait until January to find out if you are right about the second.

A Little Rant

Before I even get started, I want to say that I am not normally one of those people who looks for reasons to be offended by things that other people say/post/pin. I have a life and I don't tend to waste time worrying about how other people live their lives, or what they have to say about the way I live mine.

In addition, I also want to say that this is NOT an anti-spanking post. I promise. Each family is different, and each child is different, therefore the discipline methods that work from family to family, and from child to child, are different.

Having said all that, I'll commence my rant.

Can we please stop with this...

 

and this?

 

 

I see both of these on Pinterest and Facebook all the time, and honestly, it drives me nuts. I know I'm not the only one.

Here's why. If a child grows up in an environment in which baggy clothes, cigarettes, and gang signs are the norm, accepted by both peers and parents, then that child is going to grow up to be an adolescent who wears baggy clothes, smokes cigarettes, and throws up gang signs. Spanking is NOT going to change that.

And, if you are a teacher and you believe that it will, you are either working in a utopian school district or you are delusional. Or, you've never met any of your students' parents, because you know that the apples usually don't fall very far from the trees. You also know that the parents who come into your classroom dressed the way the young boys you just saw are dressed, are also the ones who tell you that if their kid gives you any trouble, just take them outside and whoop 'em. At least, that's been my experience.

 

 

The second one bothers me for different reasons from the first one. I find the caption to be rather cruel.

If you look at the instances of school shootings in recent years, you will notice a few things. The shooters were either mentally ill, came from a family/culture of violence, or were at the point of not caring whether or not they, themselves, lived or died.

I don't know what discipline methods the shooters' parents used, but I can tell you that spanking does not cure or prevent mental illness.

People who live in environments in which they learn that the way to resolve a problem with another person is to shoot them, get spankings, too.

 

I am not defending or excusing the heinous actions of people who would shoot children. I can't defend or excuse the actions or mindset of a person who would shoot anyone. I'm merely pointing out that smacking a child on the rear end is not going to prevent them from becoming a violent criminal if he or she is mentally unstable. To suggest that it will is ignorant.

It is also ignorant to assume that being spanked as a child will make a teenager adopt your social norms, rather than the ones he or she has seen all his or her life.

 

I saw another one on Pinterest recently that was even worse, but I couldn't find it again to incorporate it into this post. It's a picture of a thick, leather belt, with a caption that reads something along the lines of how being beaten with said belt was the reason no one had ever opened fire on a school until recently.

OK, I have to jump in here. No one has ever hit me with a belt in my life, and I have never had so much as the smallest desire to shoot another human being. Believe it, or not.

 

I'm inclined to use hyperbole and other figurative language, myself. But, come on, people. Think before you post something like this. There's a fine line between being hyperbolic and being downright ridiculous.

 

(P.S. Whether you spank or not, please stop judging people who don't discipline their children the way you do. You have no idea what works for their kids. Thanks!)

 

 



British Invasion, Part 2

In light of my most recent post, the Head family of Birmingham would like to extend our sincerest congratulations to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge on the arrival of the newest heir to the throne of England.

I now feel a great deal of pressure to produce a baby girl in January, so that the young prince will have his future bride.

That's right, Suri Cruise. We're not afraid of you.

The British Invasion...Of Our House

It really was only a matter of time.

My own fascination with all things British began when I was very, very young. I have no idea how old I was when I was first treated to the wonder and glory that is Mary Poppins, but there it started. I became a fiend for the accent, the magic - because children in Alabama rarely disappear into chalk drawings at the park - and Julie Andrews. Oh, Julie Andrews.

Or, maybe it was when my mom allowed me to watch the nuptials of Charles and Di when I was four. You can't show a four-year-old girly-girl a big, fluffy princess dress and not expect her to form some sort of emotional attachment.

My third grade teacher, aka the most awesome teacher who ever lived and the woman who first inspired me to become one, fuelled my obsession when she chose Great Britain as our class's country in Christmas Around the World. She assigned me the role of parlour maid, and I had to wear a black skirt with an apron, a starched white shirt, and one of those nifty little hats that looks like a coffee filter with ruffles.
Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You've seen Downton Abbey.
I poured tea for everyone who came to visit our quaint little English Christmas village, served them biscuits, I mean cookies, and I was quite good at it.

Fast forward to whenever I was introduced to Jane Austen. I didn't love her, at first, but I needed (yes, NEEDED) to read more stuff set in Regency England. I also fancied a pelisse, but I still don't have one of those.

I have no idea when I fell in love with the Tudors and their sordid, fascinating history. But, love I do.

And then, there's Potter. I have no shame in admitting that I am on the back side of my thirties, inching ever closer to forty, and I am head-over-heels, punch drunk, stupid in love with all things Harry Potter.

So, given my affinity for all the uptight manners, lovely speech, and lack of orthodontia, it was only a matter of time.

Sweet Pea seems to be following in her mother's footsteps, at least in this regard.

Before she was three, she assigned the name, "Mr. Darcy" to any man wearing a cravat or a top hat.

The other day, she was all in a tizzy because she could easily locate her Harry and Hermione figurines, but Ron was nowhere to be found.

And, finally, she has begun to ask questions with a British accent.

"Um, Mummy? Could I have some bleeeewbries with my dinnah?"
"Would you like to go upstahs and play?"

I love it. I wonder how long it will last. I probably have Peppa Pig to thank for it, which is fine. It has to start somewhere, right? ;-)

I may be a Southern belle, but my loyalties are somewhat divided. I will always deeply love the Southern hospitality and good manners, fried green tomatoes, and boiled peanuts. But, there's a piece of my heart that lies somewhere between Derbyshire and Little Whinging.

Sweet Pea: The Southern, British-speaking, book-loving, ballerina/comedienne. Yep. In a nutshell.

Channeling My Inner Letterman

Top Ten Reasons We're Having Another Baby:

10. Maternity clothes are stretchy and comfortable, and I wanted to be able to wear them again.

9. Jakki and her hubby had a third baby in February, and we hate competition.

8. I don't have enough messes to clean up after other people.

7. We wanted to see if the Chinese Gender Chart was correct.

6. DWH likes it when I'm moody and b****y.

5. We hate sleeping more than two hours at a stretch.

4. I'm convinced Baby D has a secret wish to be that weird {middle} kid.

3. We have one who looks like DWH and one who looks like me, so we wanted to see who a third one would look like.

2. I needed another shot at having a redhead. Fingers crossed! (I'm only half kidding about this one.)

And the number one reason we decided to have another baby:

1. It was the only way to convince DWH to get rid of the Explorer and buy me that sexy new minivan of my dreams.

Mark Your Calendars

Doesn't it drive you nuts when you're really into a series of books and you finish one, only to be left hanging for dear life on that cliff for a year or two, waiting for the next one to be released?

It happened to me with nearly all the Harry Potter books. I read the first three within a few days and then had to wait patiently to watch Cedric Diggory die in Goblet of Fire.

I read Divergent and Insurgent back-to-back, and now I have to wait until October for the last book in the series to make it into my eager hands.

So, without further ado, we are excited to announce that your wait is over. The third and final volume in the BabyHead trilogy will be released in mid-January!

We have had one doctor appointment thus far, and everything looks great. BabyHead #3 has a strong heartbeat (160 bpm), was wriggling around, and doing his/her job of making me tired and queasy. Oh, and moody. Let's not forget moody. I'm sure DWH won't be forgetting that one.

We have told the other kids, and Sweet Pea is fine with it, as long as it's a girl. She wants to name her "Pacey." Go ahead. Sing some Paula Cole. You know you want to. ("I don't wanna wait/For our liiiiives to be overrrrr...")
So, if I refer to #3 as Pacey from here on out, you'll know why.
We asked her if she would like to have another little brother. She said, "No. I want to keep the one I have." I think we'll let her keep him, too. They'd both be heartbroken if they were ever separated.

Speaking of Baby D, whose name I suppose we'd better update, he's oblivious. He probably will be until January. That's ok. The longer I get to snuggle him and rock him at bedtime, the better.

Of course, I'll be posting updates and pictures as Pacey gets bigger - and I get bigger.

Thanks for sharing our excitement with us! Only 9 weeks until we find out if Sweet Pea and Baby D will have a baby brother or a baby sister. We can't wait until January!

"Children are a heritage from the Lord..." Psalm 127:3

Pancakes, Ballet, and Doughnuts

Have I told you that Sweet Pea is fascinated with all things ballet? She loves to dance, in general, but ballet is her favorite.
She hasn't started taking ballet, yet. That will come in the fall when school starts back. But any picture of a ballerina or ballet slippers, the sound of classical music, or the sight of a tutu all set her little heart a-flutter.
We've asked her if she wants to play soccer, do gymnastics, or participate in any of the other extra-curricular programs her fabulous preschool offers. The answer is always, "No. I just want to do ballet."
So, when Dan learned that a local private school was performing a ballet based on C.S. Lewis's, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, of course I had to take her. Friday night was a girls' night out for Sweet Pea and me, starting with a delicious dinner at the fine dining establishment of Sweet Pea's choosing - IHOP. After that, we were ballet bound!

As you can probably imagine, she was in love from the moment the lights went down. She was mesmerized. At one point, when the scene was changing, I asked her what she thought might happen next.
She looked at me sternly and replied, "I don't know, but I think we need to be quiet."
If you know Sweet Pea well, you know that she must have really wanted to pay attention if she suggested being QUIET.
It was all I could do to contain my absolutely delighted laughter while I watched her try to imitate every graceful movement she saw, while sitting primly in her seat. I can't wait to watch her blossom into a ballerina in the coming years.

The performers, comprised of middle- and high school students from the school's dance program, did a fantastic job. I enjoyed the show as much as Sweet Pea did!

The rest of our weekend had little to do with the arts, unless you count the art of making doughnuts. Oh, and it is an art. I am going to make a statement that has, for some reason, been debated.
(OK, we didn't make the doughnuts, but we sure enjoyed eating them this morning after the early worship service!)

Krispy Kreme makes the best doughnut in the entire world and Dunkin Doughnuts cannot possibly begin to compare.

There. I said it.
I recently read, on Facebook, of course, someone's erroneous comment that Krispy Kreme doughnuts taste just like any other doughnut.
Um, I beg your pardon?
How can you compare the dry, crumbly, cakey confection produced by Dunkin Doughnuts, to the ooey, gooey, so-soft-they-don't-even-leave-crumbs-on-your-napkin goodness that is Krispy Kreme??
Who's with me??

Dunkin Doughnuts does have better coffee, though. I will allow them that.

Have a great week, everyone!

Wishing Away These Stinking Dog Days

Here we are in mid-June, and I have only posted once this month. I apologize. It's just that, well, it's summer.
Technically, it's not even summer until next week, but it's still hotter than the eighth level of Dante's Inferno and it's no secret that this is NOT my favorite time of year.

For one thing, everything here in Birmingham that relates to small children, completely shuts down or goes on hiatus during the summer, so we're bored out of our minds. I mean, what do you do with a preschooler and a toddler if a) there's no preschool or MMO, b) there's no story time at the library, c) you have one kid who is terrified of the water and another who can't swim by herself, d) taking them outside will cause them to burst into flames, and e) you don't want to spend your entire life savings just to keep them occupied?

Whine, whine. Moms have done this since the beginning of time, right? I never said I wasn't spoiled.

For another thing, the heat and humidity make me...oh, what's the right word? Angry? Bitter? Grouchy? Crabby? Miserable? Yes, I think that just about covers it.

And, don't get me started on the wasps, bees, yellowjackets, ants, and gnats. It's like a Biblical pestilence every time I open the door.

That said, I apologize for not posting much this time of year. It's just a little cranky around here.

On a brighter note, we now have fewer than 100 days until autumn begins! (See countdown on the right.)
 Oh, my sweet autumn, with your colorful leaves, breezy, balmy weather, apple-cinnamon scented everything, visits to the pumpkin patch, hot chocolate with marshmallows, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and comfy boots. I miss you. I will even endure football season just to have you in my presence again.
Please come back to me.
I'll be waiting.

Follow Up on BabyLit

So, we made our weekly trek to the library today and guess what Baby D found lurking on the shelves?
The BabyLit versions of A Christmas Carol and Romeo and Juliet!

Woohoo!

Naturally, we brought them home and went to readin'.

Pride and Prejudice is still my favorite, but A Christmas Carol is a nice one, as well. It is not a counting primer, as the P&P and R&J books, but a look at colors through the eyes of Ebenezer Scrooge. There's a green wreath, Fezziwig's blue coat, and a red scarf for Tiny Tim, just to name a few.

While I still find the R&J counting primer to be an awesome addition to any kid's library, my English teacher brain and natural dark side want to change a few things. For instance, if I had written this one, there would be one bottle of poison, two feuding families, three murders, five dead teenagers, etc.
What? You weren't thinking the same thing?

Have I mentioned that I love these books?

Our library has this fabulous play area where the kids can do fun stuff between choosing books. At least, until it gets to be unbearably hot outside.

Counting With Mr. Darcy

Have you seen these?


If your kids already know how to count, you might not have.
Sweet Pea already knew how to count by the time I discovered them, and our library only has the Pride and Prejudice one, but I still LOVE them.

They're called BabyLit, and they're counting primers that expose children to classic literature by counting objects that are essential to the plot and/or theme of the original work. For instance, in this adorable Pride and Prejudice volume, there are two eligible gentlemen, three manor houses, five sisters, and seven others that have escaped my memory.

In addition to Pride and Prejudice, my favorite, the series includes Romeo and Juliet, Jane Eyre, Alice in Wonderland, Wuthering Heights, Moby Dick, Dracula, A Christmas Carol, and Sense and Sensibility.

I have read some reviews on Amazon, et al, in which parents have complained that they were disappointed that the books deviate so far from the plot of the classic books after which they are patterned.
Uh, they're counting books. For toddlers. They are picture books. You know, for babies. How much of the intricacies of class divisions among the aristocracy of 19th century England, do you expect your two-year-old to understand?

The illustrations are fabulous and the concept is great.

It's too bad I don't have any baby showers to attend any time soon. Do I? Anyone? This would be an awesome gift!

Bananarama

I usually don't talk about recipes on the blog, but I wanted to share this one because a) it's incredibly easy, and b) I was stunned at how much my kids loved it.

I won't share all my weird food issues with you, because frankly, I don't have the time and you probably don't have the attention span. However, I will say that I am really into the natural foods thing.
God gave us the foods we're supposed to be eating, and they weren't created in a lab. I don't care how much thinner I can be from eating "I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Food," I just don't think it's a great idea to feed my family "food" that is petroleum-based or contains the same ingredients as my shampoo and hand lotion.
I believe God knew what he was doing when creating healthy things for us to eat and when giving us the brain power to figure out how to make our own food (turning milk into cheese, for example). Have you even noticed that the "food" we humans create out of chemicals to make us healthier or to make us skinny, usually has long-term terrible effects on our bodies?
I won't lie to you and tell you that my family never, ever eats anything that is processed or contains artificial ingredients. We do. It happens. But, when I make meals and snacks for my family in my home, I prefer to keep it as natural as possible. This is why you won't be able to sweeten the coffee I make for you with anything that comes out of a pastel-colored packet. Sorry.

For that reason, I was pleasantly surprised to see an easy snack recipe show up on Disney Jr. as we watched Sophia the First the other night. It was so simple that I wondered if my kids would actually eat it.

1. Slice up a couple of bananas.
2. Put the slices in a freezer bag.
3. Stick them in the freezer for a couple of hours.
4. Use the food processor or hand mixer to blend until they're the consistency of frozen yogurt.
5. Tell your kids it's ice cream.

That's it!
Sweet Pea ate two bowls and Baby D licked his bowl clean.

A sweet, yummy, frozen treat that's nothing but good ol' bananas.

So, does anyone have any natural snack recipes that your kids just love, that you would like to share?

Early Mommy's Day Gift

This post is about a questionnaire that Sweet Pea completed, with the help of Mrs. J and Mrs. L, of course, as part of her Mother's Day gift to me. I want to laminate this and keep it forever.
It reads as follows:

 

 

 

My Mommy

 

My mommy is 4  years old. (I'm 36.)

 

My mommy weighs 4  pounds. (Why is this question even on here???)

 

My mommy has brown  eyes. (They're blue.)

 

My mommy is bigger feet tall. (Bigger than she, yes.)

 

My mommy's favorite color is blue. (It's purple, but so is Madeline's and she thinks she's the only person who can like purple.)

 

My mommy's favorite person is Grandma and Daddy. (Throw Sweet Pea and Baby D in there, and that one is pretty accurate.)

 

My mommy's favorite food is macaroni and cheese. (Eh. It's OK. But, it is pasta so she ventured a good guess!)

 

My mommy is special because she loves me.  (I don't know if that makes me special, but my Sweet Pea sure is and yes, I love her to the moon and back. Forever.)

 

 



I'm Officially a Mom.

OK, yes. I've been a mom for almost 3.5 years now. 4 years if you count my mommyhood from Madeline's conception.

But, there's just something about driving a minivan that makes it all official.

You read that correctly. We are now the proud owners of a grocery getter. I say that as if I'm not proud. I am! I've been wanting one for a while and I finally convinced DWH that it was time to get rid of his beloved Explorer (bless her heart) and buy ourselves a minivan.
Well, actually, I think the Explorer (bless her heart) itself did most of the convincing. I just sort of stood by, smirking and nodding my head.

Don't worry. The minivan isn't going to turn me into one of those moms who always wears workout clothes that have never actually been worn to work out, along with a hat and every diamond she owns. (I don't really understand that ensemble, but I see it a lot.)
I'm not about to start dolling Sweet Pea up in those ruffle outfits that look like ugly curtains from the early 90's, accessorized with a bow the size of our house. I won't be having every article of clothing Baby D owns monogrammed.

It's just a minivan, folks. Not a lobotomy.

I've been initiated.

(Maybe the GPS knows how to get to Hogwarts?)

Does This Outfit Make Me Look Old?

I know you can't see me, but I'm guessing it does. I have on jeans that cover my entire posterior and go all the way to my ankles. OK, let's be honest. I have short legs, so they're actually a little longer than that. I also have on a t-shirt that's not tight, not sheer, has sleeves, and shows neither my cleavage nor my midriff. My feet and arms are bare, but that's pretty much the only skin I'm showing below the neck.

So, do I look old?

I'm thinking that must be the case, what with all the media glorification contraversy about Victoria's Secret's new line of sexy, revealing lingerie for middle school aged girls, and Gwyneth Paltrow's infant bikini designs.

I'm guessing that since I keep seeing all the hype about adolescent girls and young women who can't sleep at night until they are so malnourished that their pencil-thin thighs don't touch, my modest wardrobe must really show my advanced years. Just ask any of the magazines and other media geared toward that demographic. They'll swiftly proclaim that any woman whose thighs touch or whose hipbones don't protrude is NOT young and attractive and should never wear a bathing suit or shorts.

Sweet Pea is now out of toddler sizes and we've had to wander over to the little girls' section of the clothing racks. I realize she's only three, but in case I haven't mentioned it before, she's tall. My three-year-old girl is the same height as the average five-year-old. So, we've had to leave the 5T clothes behind and start shoppping for size XS in girls.
I find it disturbing that now we're facing strapless dresses, lacy tanktops, and shorts on which the legs are only as long as the crotch. These clothes are designed for FIVE-YEAR-OLDS!! I even saw a t-shirt in Sweet Pea's size that contained a message with something along the lines of how winning is more important than having friends.
Now, that's a message I want to send to my little girl.

So, I think we can safely assume that because my clothes fit and do not contain any disparaging messages about choosing winning over friends, I look old. That's OK. I look my age and I am certainly not going to try to find the fountain of youth in clothes that were not made for people my age - or, for people who like to leave something to the imagination.

You can probably guess why I have such a problem with all of this.

It makes me wonder what these trends are doing to our daughters' self-esteem. If you don't think dressing immodestly has anything to do with self-esteem, I urge you to seek out and talk to a fifteen-year-old girl who has been programmed to believe that the only way she will be pretty enough for boys to notice her is if she shows off her body.
They're not difficult to find. Just walk into any random high school and take your pick.

And, speaking of girls getting noticed for showing off their bodies, isn't that what we teach our daughters when we parade them around in midriff-bearing tops and short shorts when they're barely out of the nursery? That it's good to be noticed for their bodies? That THAT is what we want people to see when they look at us?
What happens when she dresses that way and boys still don't look at her the way they look at her friend? What happens when she doesn't want to be noticed that way? What does that do to her self-esteem?

Of course, Sweet Pea wears shorts. She just doesn't wear shorts that show her underwear. I have no problem with her going sleeveless, but I do have a problem with her wearing a spaghetti-strapped tank top with lace cut in a design to show off her non-existent cleavage. Why do they even make those clothes in her size??
I'm not suggesting that we go back to wearing corsets and covering ourselves from neck to foot, but I don't see why it should even be an option to dress a little girl - still a baby, really - in clothes befitting a lady of the evening.

Some of you are going to say that I'm being a prude. Some of you are going to say that girls should be able to wear whatever they want and show whatever they want, because boys don't have to be covered up, so why should girls?
I agree. Girls SHOULD be able to. But, I live in the real world, where there are creepy people and womanizers and boys who have not been taught to respect and value women. Maybe someday, girls will be able to walk around with all their body parts hanging out and no one will leer at them or make them into sexual objects.
Then, the whole world can dance on rainbows and give each other lollipops and sing "Peace Train" in perfect harmony.

I would love it if all the parents who have sons would teach their boys, who will be men someday, that women are worth more than their body parts, and to seek out and respect women who respect themselves, who are smart, and who will still be good company long after their physical beauty has faded.

Until then, here at Head Manor, we're going to keep our goodies covered.

I would also like to implore the media to STOP telling my daughter and my friends' daughters that they have to look like stick figures and wear next to nothing to be attractive. It's a big, fat, honking lie.

So, how old does this outfit make me look?

18 Months Old!

What a fantastic 1.5 years it's been with our sweet boy!
Happy 18 months, handsome! We love, love, love you!

Achoo. Flinch. Ick.

"Heather, why don't you like spring and summer?? Flip flops, sunshine, and Sangria - what could be better?"

Spring is beautiful, with all the different shades of green gracing the trees and the myriad colored flowers popping up everywhere.
I'll give you that much.

It's really too bad, though, that all that beauty is muffled under a yellow haze of pollen. Right now, it's so thick that even the clouds look yellow.

Achoo.

I often refer to this time of year as "flinching season." From what do I flinch? Hey, look! An excuse to make a list!
I flinch to avoid the following:

• bees
• wasps
• mosquitoes
• yellowjackets
• hornets
• dirt daubers (If you don't know what this is, you ain't Southern.)
• things being blown about by wind gusts
• various projectile sporting equipment
• children whizzing by on any wheeled apparatus

...just to name a few.

Tomorrow, we will enter the second week of April. Temperatures are forecasted to reach 80 degrees. As the next few months come upon us, that number will daily creep higher and higher until opening your front door feels exactly the same as opening your preheated oven door.
Sweat will interrupt sleep.
We will slather ourselves in sunscreen, even just to walk to the car, to avoid instant sunburn and skin cancer.
Sunscreen stinks to high heaven.
People, in summer, stink to high heaven.

Ugh.

There is no amount of Sangria to make up for all that.

Oh, well. I guess all this pollen and all these insects are portentious of tomato sandwiches, cucumber salads, and peach pies in my future.
And, Sangria, of course.
At least there's that.

Easter 2013

We celebrated the risen Christ in South Carolina this year, with family whom we just don't see often enough.

For the Easter weekend extravaganza, there was barbecue, a baby shower, a birthday party, and body building. Just kidding about that last part. I was having too much fun with the alliteration. Also, I worked at Domino's in the mid-nineties, when they sold a giant pizza called the "Extravaganzza," so I always have to remind myself that the real word only has one "z."
But, I digress.

The kids had a fantastic time hunting for Easter eggs with their cousins and getting extra hugs and snuggles from one family member or another.

I completely forgot to take my camera, and subsequently forgot to bring my keys home. I'm too young to be this forgetful, people!
Anyway, the pictures you'll see here were taken with my trusty phone and uploaded to Facebook, so if you have seen them already, I apologize. Aunts S & E, I stole some of yours, too.

What a hunk!

Wonderful, beautiful girl.

"Left! Left! Left, right, left!"

Lawson and his Easter loot.

Sweet Pea.

Uncle Ben & Mary Mathews

Good times. Good candy. Awesome Savior. He is Risen!

Just a Couple of Pictures

Sweet Pea is still a little camera shy. I promise her smile is beautiful.

He looks like such a big boy, dressed like his daddy and eating graham crackers.

We Make the Rockin' World Go 'Round.

I've seen a little of it on Facebook. I've noticed it in the media because, well, who hasn't? But, it was not until my I began to feed my Pinterest addiction that I really started seeing the big trend.

Before I even begin, let me say that I am well aware that I am overweight. I am not going to use the word "fat" because people who call themselves "fat" do it for one of two reasons: They either have low self-esteem or they are fishing for compliments. Neither of those applies to me. It's simply that I really enjoy food and put too much of it in my mouth, and I would rather spend time with my kids than with sweaty strangers in a gym. Therefore, I weigh more than I'm supposed to.
I'm not happy about it and I plan suck it up and remedy the situation. However...

Why, oh why, is it no longer socially acceptable to have a female body shape?

Can someone explain this one? Please?

I lose count of the number of pins I see on Pinterest with links to some exercise program or diet that promises to help the pinner, "Lose that lower belly that women have," or "Get rid of those wide, womanly hips." The pictures accompanying the claims are almost always depict the torso of some poor woman who looks like she has just been released from a war prison.
This is beauty?
This is what I'm supposed to aspire to?
I'm supposed to want to be shaped like an adolescent boy??

I understand that some women would rather not have the ample posterior that I have (and have always had, even when I wasn't overweight). It does make it a little more difficult to buy pants. I happen to like my body type, and I cannot lie. (You're singing it, aren't you? You're welcome.)

I grew up hearing statements like, "I saw So-and-So the other day. She's put on weight." I'm no stranger to such eloquent labels as, "Fat as a cow," "big as a barn," and, "beached whale," when describing women who have recently added a few pounds. I am aware that thinner is considered more attractive in our culture.

But, I have always been inclined to believe that the hourglass figure was more attractive than the stick figure. Have I been wrong all this time?
Wait, is my husband wrong???

Even more frightening, is Kate Moss right?? Is it true that, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels?" Haha! Nope. You can tell Ms. Moss isn't Southern, because she has obviously never had fried green tomatoes or red velvet cake.
Oh, and by the way, Ms. Moss, please stop telling our daughters this malarkey. Thanks.

I know that being overweight isn't healthy, and I can definitely tell a difference in the way I feel now compared to when there was less of me.
You know what else is unhealthy? I'll make you a list, because you know how much I love making lists.

• Fad diets. All of them. I may be a big girl, but I do know that cutting entire food groups and adding chemicals and other unnatural ingredients to your food in order to trick your body into being thin is not healthy.
• Diet pills and supplements. Ask your doctor. I did.
• Starvation. You wouldn't do that? Well, maybe not, but teenaged girls and young women who just can't seem to get skinny enough do it every day.
• Binging and purging. See above. Yep, it happens. It's closer to you than you think. There are pro-anorexia and pro-bulimia organizations, websites, etc. Do your research.

Another thing I would like to know is why we are considered devoid of any beauty whatsoever if our bodies show any signs of having carried children.
I have stretch marks. My belly is bigger than it used to be. The girls are a little lower.
I had two babies. I wouldn't trade them for a more taut abdomen. I also don't feel as if I have to buy special lotions, get plastic surgery, or do five million sit-ups to try to hide the signs of being a mom.
I am a mom. I'm also a wife and my husband still adores me and finds me attractive, so why does it matter if I have stretch marks?
I'm more beautiful now than I was before, because I've carried two beautiful babies.

If anyone can make heads or tails of this craziness, I'd be much obliged.
In the meantime, can we implore the media to STOP telling my daughter she's not pretty enough if she doesn't starve herself?? Please??

You Know, Some of Them Aren't So Bad.

In a previous post, I discussed the differences in my childhood perceptions of the Disney princesses, and my views when I watched them with Madeline over the past couple of years. Oh, Snow White. Such a pretty dress, yet so little substance.

The princess get a lot of flack for being, essentially, vapid beauties who can't think for themselves and therefore need a man to rescue them.
Come to think of it, this is a pretty accurate description. Don't even get me started on Sleeping Beauty and her lack of emotional response to anything other than the idea that she might never again see the guy she met twenty minutes ago.

I'm not one of those people who thinks that if my daughter watches the princess movies, she's going to be influenced to become like Ariel and give up her entire life for some stranger she sees passed out on the beach. I like to give my children a little more credit than that. They're not stupid and I don't believe they will be so easily brainwashed by something as simple as a 1.5 hour cartoon.

That said, allow me to let you in on a little secret. Not all the Disney princesses are vacuous damsels in distress. I'd like to introduce you to a few of the Disney women who, if she were to allow herself to be influenced by the media, I would want Sweet Pea to try to emulate.

Mulan: Her world tells her that the only way for her to have any honor is for her to find a man, obey his every command, and be a human gumball machine for his babies.
Mulan responds by saying, "Um, yeah. That sounds great and all, but, I think I'm going to put on some armor and singlehandedly save China from the Huns, instead. Y'all have fun with that whole being enslaved to your husband thing."
Sweet Pea actually quotes this one fairly often. The other day, she was mad at me and told me, "Mommy! You are the craziest man I have ever met!"
I had to turn away and laugh for a second at this one, because, well, how do you control your laughter after your three-year-old says that?

Merida (Brave): This is a more recent discovery. Women of Merida's age and station must have their suitors, and eventually their husbands, chosen for them. It is, according to her mother, what she has been preparing for since birth.
Merida's response? "Nope. You can bring all the men home for me that you want. I don't want to get married, yet. I'm going to take my bow and arrow and have myself a little adventure before I settle down. Oh, and if and when I decide I want to be someone's wife, I'll be choosing the husband by myself, thanks."

Tiana (The Princess and the Frog): Here, we see an African-American waitress living in New Orleans in the 1920's. Her dream is not to snag a man, as she reminds us several times that she has no time for such nonsense, but to own her own restaurant. It may seem that the odds are stacked against her, but she has a goal in mind and she will not sleep until she achieves it. She gets her restaurant through determination and hard work. She gets the prince, too, but he's really just a bonus.

Rapunzel (Tangled): Rapunzel is kidnapped as an infant as locked in a tower for eighteen years. She has never been outside and has no clue who her real parents are. Yet, she refuses to play the victim card. She overcomes her hardships through her own merits without ever once feeling that she is entitled to make poor life choices, simply because she didn't have a great start. Again, yes, she gets the guy. Again, just a bonus. Her real accomplishment is freedom. She also chops off her long, flowing blond tresses in favor of a short, mousy brown 'do, which could be interpreted as her thumbing her nose at conventional ideas of beauty.

So, see? Princesses are not all going to turn our little girls into future Stepford wives. But, hey, if your daughter's dream is to be exactly like Cinderella someday, take heart. At least she's not watching Teen Mom.