August 8, 2012

Weddennessday



[You know, I have no idea if she wore any headbands like this when she was with her dad over the summer. I don't really care to know. But I don't imagine that she did. That doesn't matter at all except that this is a part of my daughter that I ADORE. I posted this photo and said, "The Moo Is Back!" My heart is exploding.]

While the kids were back east, sister Hayley picked out a headband for her little buddy, Moo. Mabel spotted it in the hair box and slapped it on her forehead within 48 hours of hitting Da Plains. Work it, Girl.

Of all the odd things I've overshared with you people, have I mentioned that I cannot eat soggy cereal? If I pour a bowl of cereal, I make sure to do any little things I might need to take care of before pouring the milk on. Because once the milk is on, nobody is ringing my bell. I don't answer the phone, I don't answer questions, and I don't change the TV channel. I must quickly eat all of the cereal before it gets soggy. And it's not the milk, because I adore a big spoonful of milk with each bite. But that cereal in the bite better be crunchy! Call me a weirdo, go on.

And so it came to pass that Saturday of this past weeked I overcame a hurdle that I didn't realize existed until I was straddled atop of it: I took all four kids to Target alone. Silly, right? Right. Under many circumstances they would have run me ragged, asked a billion questions, and frazzled my nerves. But on that particular day they were quite well behaved. I picked out a few things for each for school. Miss Hayley found a pair of boots that I couldn't pass up.







Seriously. If they'd had them in my size? Right. [But they did not.]

This morning Bryon had to go into work at 4:30. There was a meeting to manage and a button-down shirt to be worn. He looked so handsome in the dark when he sat on my side of the bed to kiss me goodbye. After he left I counted my blessings to have almost 2 more hours to sleep before having to peel the yummy, warm quilts off of my body. And then at 6:00, two things happened: my alarm went off and it began to storm outside [Praise God for rain!]. Obviously I fell back asleep, probably deeper than I’d slept the entire night, and woke up LATE at 7:00! Oops!

I am so proud to tell you that #33 will be runningback/slotback this year for the Titans junior football team. He has his UnderArmor cleats and gloves (oh my the gloves!), his wrist bands and arm bands (because they help a boy feel especially rough and tough) his neon socks, and the kid is GEEKED up. Trevor is a senior player on his team – with best friends Carter and Hunter – and is playing a position that is responsible for running the ball. Like, into the endzone. Like, for a touchdown. A TOUCHDOWN. I promise you, I will pass out the first time that happens. And I think he might, too.

Every night, Bryon takes over child-shuttling before football practice. He wants to watch Trevor, help coach him. They go over the plays. They run together. They talk strategy and player positions, and make boy plans. It’s all very blue to me, but I’m proud of it. God gave Trevor a stepdad who GETS this outgoing, athletic part of him so much. I am so grateful. Well, there is that and wrestling. Trevor is a physical child. In addition to football, he loves to wrestle it out. Man, if he’s grumpy or sulking, might as well throw him in the ring and roll him around. If he and Bryon (and Andy) roll around on the carpet for 10 minutes, that kid is right as rain after. RIGHT AS RAIN. No yelling, no tween angst. No nothing. He just needs to get that tween testosterone out of his body, I reckon. Wrestling makes everything alright. Gives him confidence, too, I think. Bryon’s dad wrestled him and little brother Bret when they were tiny. They said that every time dad’s big paws rolled them around, they knew he loved them. I suppose that’s boys for you. But I know it’s a God thing that Bryon’s need to wrestle boys he never dreamed he’d have, matches so perfectly with my boys who need that. Isn’t the big JC cool?!

When we worked together in Kentucky, my Lulu drank tea alla time. And so she had a little teacup warmer at her desk, all plugged in and keeping her brew nice and hot. I thought she was odd in her requirement for such an apparatus, but it made me love her even more. This morning when I thought of that out of nowhere, it made me miss her even more, too.

Why is it that sometimes I am ridiculously girlie, and others I am so NOT? I think I put on mascara this morning. I mean, I sort of remember doing it. If I had, that would make let’s see… every day this week with only mascara on my face. Not a drop of anything else. At the office. Hmmpf. Makeup is fun, but if I’m tight on time it’s like the first thing to go. Is this weird? I am over 30 years old and eventually, shouldn’t I wear a little something to appear fresh? We’ll see about that.

I’m very thrilled to share that Judy turned 70 last week. BOOYAH. She looks amazing and it was sooooo yummy to squish her while we were there in July. On her birthday (which was also the anniversary of our move to Da Plains 4 years ago), we called her up to send her some love. Hayley asked to speak to her first and she chirped and cooed into the phone something so fierce, I’m pretty sure Nana was taken a bit by surprise. Hayley usually isn’t at our house on the nights we talk to Nana and so she doesn’t spend time talking with her. She’s also only met her a few times. But on this day that girl was filled with the Spirit to talk to Nana. It was so very, very sweet.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a hair update and I know you all are waiting with bated breath to see how my hair color correction is holding, right? Of course. As suspected, the color has faded a small bit. The ‘line of demarcation’ between virgin hair and the corrected color is slight. I notice it because it’s on my head and I wonder if others notice it as well. There was that time in high school when I colored my hair with a box at home… and no matter how I did my roots there was always a line. I’m terrified of that. I love the ombre look, but secretly worry that one day, everyone will look around, and decide it’s a bad idea and call each other nasty names. And so. I could leave my hair alone because really what I have growing out is sort of ombre. I could chop it all off super short so that only virgin is left and I can just … start fresh (that’s not my top choice). Or, I could go back to a salon and ask them for some sort of rinse/gloss/glaze that is not permanent at all – and that matches my natural color. That choice is most expensive because I would have to return each month for another glazing until my virgin hair reached the length where I was comfortable cutting off the fake color.

Or I could realize that I’m in my 30’s and while I don’t have a single gray hair yet, I will soon enough. And when I do, it will be time to color anyway. Maybe I just select a permanent color that is as close to my natural as we can get and just do that every couple of months instead. With that option, I may never SEE gray ever. Geez. Hair decisions are hard.

Sorry. Are you sleeping? I don’t blame you. I’m done now.

1 comment:

  1. I hear ya about the make-up thing. I am 36 going on 37 in a couple months and its a rare thing for me to even put mascara on. I feel the same way though...it seems like I SHOULD be wearing make-up. Oh well.

    ReplyDelete